A Year Full of Challenges

Well it has certainly been a while since I last posted. 2023 was a year full of challenges, one after another it seemed, and all of them came while going through the first year of grieving my dad.

Early in the year I got food poisoning while visiting the shore. That lasted longer than I’ve ever had food poisoning for, was quite awful, and has had continued, residual effects. It was followed soon after by a diagnosis of Hashimoto’s Disease. I had heard of Hashimoto’s but had never considered I might develop it myself. After that I was diagnosed with Celiac disease. Those weren’t enough apparently, and I developed frozen shoulder (fun!). And then after all of that I was sent for a bone density test, and learned I have osteopenia. I began hearing such reassuring admonitions as, “don’t have any falls, your bones might fracture more easily now!” It all quite impacted my day-to-day life, my mood, and my outlook. It also impacted my expectations for the future.

At best and at worst

My doctors recommended learning as much as I could about living with autoimmune disease. However, as wonderful as they have been, it seems doctors fail to provide that education themselves. The simple reason for that appears to be that few doctors (relatively speaking) understand autoimmune terribly well. The guidance regarding Celiac is rather straightforward. It’s something I’m already familiar with since I have a family member with it. But the guidance for Hashimoto’s sometimes seems to contradict itself, often seems to not be based on very strong evidence, and also seems to be quite individual. So that has been hard to figure out. It has all created a whirlwind at best, and an uncomfortable, sometimes unpleasant, scary, and painful roller coaster at worst.

Learning and rethinking things

I guess that’s the gist of it though, isn’t it? The worst, so far, seems to be this roller coaster of symptoms and uncertainty. I’ve had to revisit previous beliefs I had about food (like, whether veganism is good for me – apparently it isn’t, not for me), spend way more time thinking about what and when I eat or how I will afford eating a super healthy diet, address episodes of frustration and anxiety related to these new health issues, and crucially, make sure I do actually take better care of myself.

One thing I have learned is that some of these conditions can have “flares.” The term is rather new to me, hence the quotation marks. These flares can be really difficult to deal with, and sometimes cause very real stress. I’m currently mostly over the frozen shoulder, am on – I think – a steady course of healing, but am experiencing a “flare” right now. Still, I am mostly optimistic. I’ve been able to follow most of the guidance (as far as I understand it). And I’ve also been able to do things that for months last year I was unable to do.

But I used to be so healthy!

When I was eight or so I had Mono. For weeks I missed school and was basically confined to staying in bed and taking ice cold baths. I also spent a lot of that time reading and playing with my dad (not having any idea of how serious Mono could apparently be at that age), so I actually have fond memories of that time! Other than the Mono I was a healthy, very active kid, and I continued to be in a state of good health most of my life. This is all really new to me, having actual chronic conditions; it’s a lot to get my head around.

New hopes and visions

In January of last year I did not foresee the challenges that were to come, beyond grieving. I have had to rebuild somewhat tenuous new hopes and visions for this year. They are different hopes and visions than what I had last year; they center my own health and well-being, they are more open and flexible, and in a way they may be more authentic.

A year full of joys

Highway 83 South into Baltimore
The highway into Baltimore, MD – first time visiting this great city!

At the same time, I know that last year was also a year full of joys: I was able to see my daughter and her partner numerous times through the year; my husband and I traveled to places we love and to places we’d never been; I had many opportunities to enjoy the beauty of nature; I attended cultural and arts events; and my holidays were celebrated with love and family.

The health issues, the many challenges I was suddenly faced with, didn’t ultimately define the year. Even the grieving process I knew I would journey through, didn’t define the year. I can reflect on last year and look ahead knowing that this year might also be a year full of challenges, but also a year full of joys.

So that’s some of where I’ve been! 🙂 Still here, just going through some new stuff. If any of this is true for your own story, please feel free to reach out and say hey. I’m always happy to hear from others!

~ Nellie

p.s. the feature image is of Mount Mansfield, in Cambridge, VT. I chose this photo because it kind of sums up how life felt last year – very big, sometimes overwhelming, mysterious, and always still profound and beautiful.

Dad

We had another few months with my dad. We hurried down to Connecticut and were able to spend solid weeks at a time – only returning home for a few days or a week in between – and I was able to spend hours every day by his side. What they had called about in September turned around (sort of)… We had been told he likely only had days or possibly a week or two, that his body wasn’t responding to treatment, and we needed to start hospice.

Hospice came in, and they were pretty wonderful. The on-site care team was already great, but the hospice team provided more one-on-one care and focused comfort measures, as well as significant comfort to us.

Honestly, between September and December, it was amazing. He regained a clarity that no one could explain. He of course still had dementia, and so there were definite moments of confusion as there had increasingly been for several years, but at times he acted as if he was coming out of a coma or something – suddenly newly aware of his surroundings, as well as a distinct familiarity with all of his own things. Requests for certain items of his, inquiries about people he’d previously forgotten, a clarity of thought and speech; he even looked more like himself than he had for a year.

This of course, ultimately made losing him all the more difficult. We had a gift, beyond the few days they had told us to prepare for, we had months, and those months were rich. I feel blessed to have had that time with him. Those months also gave false hope, as several nurses told us he might actually “graduate” from hospice, because he was doing so well. I had just started to think, “maybe he will make it to his next birthday…”

My husband and I came home for just over a week to get our bivalent shots, which we had thought (correctly) would be better to be at home for. When we returned to CT to see my dad, he had just taken ill again, though with something different. Over the course of just a few days, things, well, things became terrible.

He passed away on Sunday the 18th of December. There are a lot of things you tell yourself (that you know you are supposed to tell yourself), that you hear others tell you to remember: at least we had those last few months, at least we were back in CT with him, at least I got to tell him everything, not only once but over and over to make sure he knew. Grief doesn’t reason.

… I am heartbroken.

Today was the first day, honestly, that I have been able to focus on work other than the most mundane. I had another sleepless night, after more dreams about funeral preparations (the funeral is now thirteen days behind us, but each night something new presents itself that I must attend to), gave up and got up at 4:00, and made a list of things I had to get to. The pain is there, the tears are there, but I got on with the day anyway.

There is a pain that must be unique to caring for someone over the course of many months or even years, to witnessing their suffering and the deterioration of their health, that brings its own trauma, on top of the loss itself. I always knew that when I lost my dad it would hit me hard… at times I wondered if I’d even be able to cope. I am coping, functioning fine – I mean, I’ve had everything under control, nothing is going undone – but yeah, it has been a shock and a trauma, and I don’t think I will “get through the grief,” so much as I will now get through life with the grief.

Well, that’s the first I’ve really written about it publicly. I have no idea what I will share here, regarding this loss.

If you have experienced a similar loss recently and feel like you want to reach out, please don’t hesitate. I personally have found comfort in sharing with others.

His obit (at my little genealogy blog): Larry J. Brill, my dad

Thanks for reading,

~ Nellie

Photo: just a happy memory, one of the very fun times we had just the two of us, we had an invite out to Martha’s Vineyard to stay with a theatre friend of his for a week in 1982.

Waiting

I’m currently waiting to hear from one of the nurses caring for my dad. They called me last night to tell me he was suddenly ill, and I might need to scramble to get down to be with him. They also suggested I begin considering hospice care for him. Things are feeling pretty disconnected right now… I guess that’s natural (?), as I’m about three hundred miles away, and uncertain as to his condition.

So much has been going through my head, and my heart, these past months, deepening over the past weeks as I’ve witnessed his further decline in health (physical and cognitive). It is a path through sadness, anger, frustration, confusion, yearning, and doubt.

Dementia, seeing what it does to him, feels like a theft of his mind, and an assault on his spirit. It is heartbreaking. Beyond the personal, is the political, or the social… that we (seem to) pay very little real attention to the process of dying, focused so much on the superficial. And it strikes me that there is very little our society does these days to truly honor the dying, or to offer answers to the living.

I don’t know what is going to happen over the next few days. I am still hopeful.

Thanks for reading,

~ Nellie

Celebration & Gratitude

my favorite gift: sweet new plants
and something I can never have enough of: olives!

The other night my daughter and her boyfriend had my husband and myself over to celebrate my upcoming birthday. It was a great evening, with wonderful food, fantastic music, awesome conversation, very fun tabletop gaming, and much love. In my typical weirdness, I felt then and still feel now that this was not deserved, the big, positive, warm attention.

My daughter knows me well, and her gifts to me (in addition to the above food, music, conversation, and gaming) were a jar of kalamata olives, and a beautiful little plant. I also received a cool-looking new game, Abomination: The Heir of Frankenstein, which I’d seen highly recommended in recent reviews. As we didn’t want to dive into an hour long read of the instructions for a new game, we played a long-time favorite, Betrayal at House on the Hill.

Betrayal at House on the Hill,
and Abomination: The Heir of Frankenstein

I’ve never spent this much time or energy contemplating any particular birthday or age. I am not sure why fifty is doing it, but I guess that is not so uncommon. But so far, this one has actually been one of the best.

I’ll know soon enough if fifty feels any different from any other age, but regardless, I’m letting go the worry, and just allowing the astounding gratitude I’m feeling for having made it this far, and with this much love in my life.

Thanks for reading,

~ Nellie

New Beginnings

Finally, I’m updating this site!… I have had a hell of a time with the previous WordPress theme, and just installed this new, much more basic one.

late October 2019, Vermont

Yesterday was Halloween – or Samhain, which is the mark of the New Year in some Pagan traditions, and the new moon was just a few nights before. I feel like this is a good time to make a better start with this portfolio, and a real start with this blog.

Art has been important virtually my entire life… after my mother died, a counselor told my dad I would express my pain through art. Whether or not that was indeed true, I don’t know – back then I drew pictures of my mother as an angel, and I drew birds and animals, and the sorts of things little kids drew. But it was such a constant for me growing up (and my dad being an artist himself was a huge influence as well). As I got older I discovered cameras, and how much I loved taking and working with pictures as well as drawing them. So I’ve been doing that a very long time as well. And writing, well… Mercury is conjunct my Ascendant in the 12th house… seems rather fated 😉

So this is me anyway, with my little inconspicuous site. If you’ve happened upon this page, hi there.

Thanks for reading,

~ Nellie