The Seated View

I'm so glad to be here. I wanted to write something for today. One year ago, on March 30, 2016, things went south after I was extubated , I flatlined, but through some highly skilled intervention, I survived. That is one hell of a miraculous gift. Although I am normally full of words about the experience, the aftermath,, and all the feels involved, I find myself  oddly speechless on this, my first Zombie Birthday. All I know is that I am so grateful. So instead of writing a whole lot of words basically e xpressing that I don't know what to say, I thought I'd instead share some photos from the past year. Life. Isn't it wonderful? And this... well. It's my Zombie Birthday, after all. I had to. Thanks, Alex.  

There are blank spaces in my life when I had to disappear because my RA flared and I only had enough energy to get through each day. In my new post for HealthCentral, I share what it’s like to miss out because of chronic ill ness : "There are many different ways of getting there, but the end result is never fun. Sometimes you did too much, sometimes the meds stop working (or never worked at all), sometimes you have to stop the meds because of surgery or illness. And then your rheumatoid arthritis (RA) comes tap dancing back into your life, top hat, tuxedo, and a tremendous TA-DA! For you, this doesn’t mean dancing and parties. It means your life closes down. I’ve been there since the holidays last year. Right after Christmas, I got a  nasty case of croup . It was bad enough in itself, but also necessitated going off my biologic for over a month. Just as I was starting to heal from the croup, able to speak again and get back into life, whatever medication

There are times where it can be a struggle to find hope when you with a chronic illness. In my new post for Mango Health, I share building blocks to nurturing a sense of hope : " “Hope is the thing with feathers That perches in the soul, And sings the tune without the words, And never stops at all” - Emily Dickinson There are times when having a chronic illness can feel like you are being held in a dark dungeon, somewhere in the bowels of a medieval castle. You’re not imprisoned by stones, bars, and rattling chains, but by unrelenting pain and fatigue.   Every night, you go to bed hoping that tomorrow will be better. Every morning, there is a split second when your heart lifts as you wake up … and then reality dashes all hope. The pain is still intense, and the fatigue still overwhelming as if you hadn’t slept at all. I started the year like this, clawing my way back from a holiday illness. I had to stop my rheumatoid arthritis medication for over a mont

It was a fairly dismal March day — cloudy, with tiny pellets of snow pelting my face as we walked west. We were in need of adventure, but uncertain what kind, so decided to pick a direction and see what happened. Union Station loomed ahead and since neither The Boy or I could remember when we were last there, we went to explore and look at trains. It was ComiCon weekend, so we happened upon cosplayers in a variety of costumes, from homemade to elaborately beautiful. There were also a superhero or two. Oddly enough. (click photos to embiggen. All photos in which yours truly appear are © David Govoni ) And then we were on the ground between the aquarium and the CN Tower . Looking up, it was impossible to see the bubble where everything happens — the observation deck, the glass floor, and so on. So naturally, we went up. As we bought our tickets, the teller made sure that we understood there was zero visibility. “We know,” we said. “That’s why we’re going!”