Superbugs: My First Real Taste of Fear

Pretty as a child’s picture, but not fun at all! ESBL E. coli Image from www.scitechdaily.com

“I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.”
~ Frank Herbert, Dune

 

Wondered why I haven’t been blogging this past fortnight?

Last year, in the aftermath of major surgery, I became infected with a UTI (urinary tract infection). You can read more about that here. I had a catheter at the time while my bladder healed from a tear and it seems that this is how I picked up this little bug. A hospital-acquired infection.

No biggie, I thought back then. A simple round of antibiotics and it will be fixed.

Alas, no. This particular infection, ESBL E. coli is a superbug. In other words my little infection was antibiotic-resistant. It was okay, I was assured. There were still antibiotics that would work.

I was given oral antibiotics in hospital and then more when I got home. Apart from being slow to clear the infection, these particular antibiotics also caused me vision loss. Ocular toxicity and crystals forming in the back of my retina mean that even now my vision hasn’t returned to normal, although it is 80% better than what it was in October last year.

After the vision loss I decided to step away from my specialists ( a gynecologist and a urologist) and work with my fabulous local doctor who is also my acupuncturist. Using diet, chinese herbs, IV Vitamin C infusions and acupuncture we finally got my bladder infection sorted, my eyes improved and me feeling really good again.

Hooray. I beat the superbug! I went off on holidays and ran at life full tilt. It felt marvellous.

Until late March when I became infected with Shigella, a nasty gastrointestinal bug that laid me out flat and totalled my already-compromised immune system. (I have late-stage Lyme-disease. It complicates everything.)

My UTI flared up again, and my local doctor took a urine specimen. It was Easter Thursday, and we didn’t expect a result quickly. But we got one on Easter Saturday. It was the same superbug – ESBL E. coli. No worries my doctor said. It’s resistant to quite a few oral antibiotics but there are some it has sensitivity to. We’ll get you on them right away. And he did.

I took a first course and then a second, but I wasn’t noticing much difference. In fact I was beginning to feel worse.

We took a second specimen and discontinued the drugs.

This infection felt different to the one I had in hospital in 2016. Back then I was pissing blood and tissue and was in complete unrelenting misery, needing to pee every ten minutes and then only producing a bloody dribble. This time my urine was cloudy, and my entire lower pelvis ached but although I felt awfully uncomfortable I didn’t feel like I needed to pee constantly. Instead I felt like something was about to burst inside me. Car rides over bumps were agony, and I couldn’t even bend down to trim my toenails because of the pressure it put on my bladder. My back ached, and I couldn’t sit or lie comfortably.

On Friday 28 April, the night before my retreat, my doctor called me at home, quite late. I still had the superbug. It was no longer responsive to any oral antibiotic. He’d consulted an Infectious Diseases expert about what to do next.  I needed to report to hospital early the next morning for IV antibiotics. One big dose should do it and then I’d be able to head to retreat as planned. Important, seeing as I was running it! And just to be safe I’d have a second dose on Monday lunchtime while everyone was on a break.

Getting ready for my IV antibiotics and finding it hard to believe that things had escalated to me needing to go to hospital to be treated.

But I didn’t feel better from my massive IV antibiotic hit. I tried not to panic and focused on other things.

Monday morning my doctor rang me early. I was in my room, getting ready for breakfast before a big day of teaching. My lab work showed that my superbug was now resistant to this IV antibiotic too. I was going to have to be admitted to hospital and try a new antibiotic, very strong, and given in infusions eight hours apart for five days.

My wonderful PA Dana and I madly restructured the course to allow me to be a hospital inpatient from late every afternoon until mid-morning the next day, then duck back to run the retreat in my seven hour window of free time.

We coped okay, but the drugs made me feel even more awful.

Resigning myself to being in hospital in the middle of my retreat

On Tuesday morning just as I was about to head back to my retreat the Duty Doctor came racing into my room. I couldn’t leave. The superbug was now no longer responding to the latest drugs. There was only one real option left. I was to be given a new drug straight away. My own doctor kept talking to the Infectious Diseases specialist, and I was given incredible care by the staff at Byron Central Hospital.

We rolled onto the final option, with the same regime of an IV infusion every eight hours over seven days. Retreat finished midday on Thursday and my husband Ben raced my back to hospital to stay. No more gate passes for me!

I’ve been really ill before. I’ve had some very big scares. But nothing compares to this one.

As Ben drove me back to hospital after my retreat concluded I realised that even after a full week of IV drugs I still wasn’t feeling improvement. I was struck with a sudden thought. There weren’t many things left to throw at this infection. It was a sobering moment. My darling husband. My precious pups. What if there was no more time? If things went downhill there was no time left to finish my memoir or my pirate tales. No time to go to the places I had wanted to travel to. No time to finally be well and just hang out with Ben. Or to go do yum-cha with my sister. Or go listen to my brother’s band in some Tasmanian pub on a Friday night.

Byron Central Hospital – best staff ever!

It took until Sunday night before my symptoms went from escalating to turning the corner. By that stage I was also taking a drop of Frankincense essential oil on my tongue every ten minutes. When my symptoms began to remit I took it back to half-hourly, and then to hourly. I’m not ashamed to say that I also called on God, my Ancestors, my Guides and on the healing energy that my students and friends were sending me.

Somehow, things finally went in my favour.

I’m home now. And I’m feeling wrecked from the enormous stress and quantity of drugs I’ve had to subject my poor body to. On doctor’s orders I’m on two months of rest to build my immune system back up. My next retreat has been postponed until September. We’ll give you more details on that soon.

 

Right now every bladder twinge, every burning sensation or cramp makes me wonder if we killed it. Or if this damned bug still lurks inside me, waiting for me to drop my guard. Something still doesn’t feel right. I’m trying not to worry about it. But of course, I am.

During the day I’m fine. But at night my dreams are all nightmares where the infection was never completely cleared and when it flares up again there are no more drugs and I die.

Suddenly, all that talk about antibiotic-resistant bacteria being the major threat of the future just got personal and very, very real.

 

So, apart from looking after yourselves, what can you do to make sure you don’t end up where I have? Eat well. Rest enough. Get some sunshine and some exercise. Only take antibiotics when prescribed by a doctor, and take them exactly as directed. Wash your hands well after going to the bathroom and before preparing or eating food. It’s simple basic hygiene but it helps enormously to stop the spread of infection. Probiotics and fermented food help too, by keeping your gut health strong. Ladies, when using the bathroom wipe from front to back to stop bacteria from your bowel potentially ending up in your urethra and bladder. If you’re immuno-compromised don’t take risks. Be extra vigilant with your hygiene and don’t be afraid to wear a mask and to use gloves or hand sanitiser.

And whatever you do, don’t get Lyme disease. Especially in Australia.  But that’s a whole other story…

The beautiful waterlillies some of my students brought me during my hospital stay.

Blogging Gone Bad – Why I am taking a break for a few days…

“I find that the best way to cope with life’s difficulties is to surrender to what is. Don’t fight it. Flow with it.” ~ Nicole Cody

Hi Lovelies

I’m pecking out these words left handed from my deluxe overnight accommodation in Byron hospital.

Yes, I am still running my retreat. Except at night where I am now popping down to hospital every evening to stay overnight to receive IV antibiotic infusions to combat the nasty multi-drug resistant superbug in my bladder which has become quite a serious situation.

Not ideal, but we are making it work. Blogging is hard though.  I am now one handed and typing this has taken a stupid amount of time so I will resume blogging next week when my IV line comes out.

Sorry, but it’s just too hard right now.

I’ll pop some little video updates on our facebook page until then.

I love you heaps.
Make the most of these incredible May energies,

Nicole xx

Science-ing Our Way Back to Health!

Image from www.hdwlp.com

“Molecular biology has shown that even the simplest of all living systems on the earth today, bacterial cells, are exceedingly complex objects. Although the tiniest bacterial cells are incredibly small, weighing less than 10-12 gms, each is in effect a veritable micro-miniaturized factory containing thousands of exquisitely designed pieces of intricate molecular machinery, made up altogether of one hundred thousand million atoms, far more complicated than any machine built by man and absolutely without parallel in the nonliving world.”
~ Michael Denton, Evolution: A Theory In Crisis

 

If you’ve been following my blog you’ll know that Ben and I came home from our overseas holiday and then promptly went down with the worst gastro bug ever.

This wretched bug has defied all normal treatment. And all of the treatments thus far have involved herbs and drugs which have also been causing major lyme die-off for me, which is awesome, but also awful. I’m exhausted from disturbed nights and no food staying in me long enough to be absorbed and do some good. I still have fevers, stomach and bowel pain, cramping and bloody stools. 😦  And now itchy skin, arthritis, stinging wee and itchy sore eyes. It hasn’t been much fun around here.

Thankfully late yesterday our pathology tests finally gave us a definitive diagnosis of an exotic form of shigella, a treatable bacterial infection, which attacks the colon and if it becomes embedded like ours has, cause all kinds of complications – and now needs to be bombed with antibiotics. Antibiotics which were my personal horror drugs during my extensive lyme treatment.

So we started our new drugs last night and have five days to go.

Yay for pathology and answers and treatment.

I have profound respect for the powerhouses that bacteria are, and just how much havoc these little critters can wreak. And I’m glad that Now I can finally evict this lot and get back to normal life again.

Hugs and love, Nicole ❤ xx

PS – on a very happy note it looks like we may have found a little brother for Harry – a young red cattle dog rescue pup. We’re just waiting for his final vet checks etc so we’ll keep you posted about that!

Choosing Your Perspective

flowers from my garden

“If we are always arriving and departing, it is also
true that we are eternally anchored. One’s destination is never a place but rather a new way of looking at things.”
~ Henry Miller

 

I have never been much good at arranging flowers. I’ve never had the eye for it.

That is, until I found myself suddenly vision-impaired as a side-effect of some medication.

Usually my friend Christine arranges flowers from my garden for me when she comes to clean my house. It’s such a simple thing, but her arrangements always give me so much pleasure. Whenever I tried to create an arrangement of my own they never looked as pleasing as Chrissie’s.

While I have been in the city, recovering from surgery, there have been no flowers in our little farmhouse. So now I am home I decided to have another go and do it myself.

It was easier this time. Everything is blurry, so all I had to do was cut some blooms from the garden, choose a vase (an old teapot!) and then begin. I found myself arranging them by placing a few taller flowers and then filling in the holes with colour. It became all about the colour rather than the individual flowers or their shapes. It became about emotion and flow rather than about getting it right, and suddenly I had a vase full of flowers that spoke to my heart.

All I’d needed was to change how I saw things.

It’s amazing what a simple change of perspective can do for you.

roses and gardenias

These flowers on my kitchen windowsill are in honour of my friend, Kate, who passed away 6 years ago. Every year on October 26 I pick the first gardenias for her. This year for the first time there was a red rose too. I felt that shift from grief to acceptance. I still miss her madly but I walk this world with the ghosts of so many departed loved ones at my side now that it has become oddly comforting.

 

I still can’t see very well (I have about 20% vision in one eye and 50% vision in the other) but I am back doing most of the things I always do – with some necessary modifications. I’ve also had some bonuses. As I watched a wedgetail eagle soar above our farm yesterday I realised that the giant bird left a momentary energy trail in the sky, which I could see as a river of colour behind it, mapping its flight path through the sky. It was breathtakingly beautiful.

This doesn’t mean that suddenly I am okay with vision loss. It’s been incredibly hard. At least once a day I teeter at the edge of a dark deep hole. It’s only recently I haven’t fallen in several times a day. Still not a day goes by that I don’t shed a quiet tear or become momentarily swamped by misery. Truth is, I would much rather have my sight.

But crying and feeling bad doesn’t help. It doesn’t solve anything. And after a while it just gets boring. It is what it is, and adapting works better for me than stubbornly resisting what is and being only okay if it all changes back to how it was before.

I do my best to focus on what I can do. I look at how I can adapt and keep moving forward. I search out alternatives and new solutions. I change my paradigm. Looking from a different perspective always helps. It’s one of my best coping skills.

How about you?

Where in your life right now would you benefit from a perspective shift?

Lots of people have been telling me how panicked they are, or how regretful, that this year is almost over and they never got done what they’d hoped to. You can keep looking at life from that perspective, but it essentially means that you give up on your cherished dreams and outcomes. It’s almost over – I’ll stop trying. It’s almost over – there’s no point in even starting.

What if you change that perspective? There are two months left until year’s end. That is time enough to create change and to forge a different result for yourself.

If you’d like to join us for a month of dedicated perspective-shifting and outcome creation, sign up for #GeShiDoMo – our November-long program for creating and completing goals – and finish 2016 strong. I’ve designed this program so that if you are really stuck you can ease back into momentum again. There are choices that allow for all kinds of goal-setting and achievement, and a special category for those of you who actually need to have less DOING and more BEING in order to find a path back to self-care and life balance.

There is always time to change our perspective and try life from a new angle. I know you’ll be glad that you did!

Sending much love to you, Nicole ❤ xx

flowers from my garden

Grace In Plain Sight

“Un-winged and naked, sorrow surrenders its crown to a throne called grace.”
~ Aberjhani

 

You may have noticed that I’ve been uncommonly quiet here on my blog this past few weeks.

Those of you who’ve known me for a while will also know that if I’m ever quiet it is always for good reason.

Today, I want to share some good and some not so good news with you, in an effort to explain this current spate of absence.

My surgery back in early September went well, despite unforeseen complications. Hooray! Good news. But then I developed a urinary tract infection which turned out to be a superbug. Bad news. I was given an avalanche of drugs, and finally, finally, we were able to eradicate the infection. Good news. But in the process of eradicating the bug my vision was affected. Bad news.

I am currently suffering from a condition known as ocular toxicity. Small crystals have formed in my right eye, causing vision loss and double vision. It’s a rare side effect of the drug I was taking that was necessary to beat the superbug. The effects are usually permanent.

My left eye has already been hammered by Lyme disease, so my vision from that eye is not great. With all of the drugs I’ve been taking recently my optic nerve has become inflamed again so until two days ago I couldn’t see out of that eye at all either – a situation that began before I contracted the superbug. It may also have been damaged by the drug. I won’t know for a few more days.

Scary stuff.

When you suddenly can’t see properly, everything changes.

blind faith

Blind Faith by AronBack at www.deviantart.com

I’d be lying if I didn’t tell you that I have sobbed myself to sleep each night and been in the darkest of spaces this last little while. It seemed so cruel to have this to deal with, after everything else that has been my latest round of health battles. As a writer, to be unable to read or put words on the page has been an agony.

Each day I wake up hoping for improvement, only to find my world a blur. I can see shapes and colour but nothing has definition. My world is two-dimensional and rather terrifying. Overnight I have become clumsy and tentative. Dependent. Smaller, somehow.

But my left eye has cleared a little in the past forty-eight hours.

From experience I know that there is room for further improvement, and already I am coping a bit better with my new situation. I now have limited vision from my left eye, and using corrective glasses and vision impairment settings on my phone and computer I have managed to gain a little more independence. I can read large font for brief periods before I get a headache and end up exhausted from the effort. I’m cheered enormously by this latest development though. I expect to be able to read and write for short periods each day and with some creative thinking I should be able to get around most of these current hurdles and adapt to the vision loss.

My ability to see energy and auras hasn’t changed at all, thank goodness. If anything, my senses have become more acute.

I also have my fingers crossed that both eyes will improve over time, and I have a great team looking into all of this with me.

So, this is a turn of events I didn’t anticipate.

It’s one that has caused me many tears, and a great deal of distress.

But ultimately, no matter what happens to us, we find a way to cope and move on. I’ll be okay. Things will improve or I will learn to cope better with what is, and meanwhile I will keep asking for help and counting my many blessings. I’ll innovate in order to create. I’ll overcome, and where I can’t I’ll do my best to sit in a state of grace with it all.

My husband put it all into perspective for me. Would I rather have dodgy eyes and be alive, or be dead with perfect eyesight?

I’m doing my best to get up and running again. Sorry that all I’ve spoken about here on my blog lately has been health updates. I hope to bring you something far more interesting very soon. Thanks for your patience, and for your support. It means the world to me.

All my love, Nicole xx

PS: How cool is this Unicorn Eye Patch! It’s on my latest wish list 🙂

eye patch

Awesome Unicorn Eye Patch from www.youtube.com

Nic’s Latest Update: Life as a #Lymewarrior

brave

‘Brave’ by WillowWaves at www.deviantart.com

“O snail
Climb Mount Fuji
But slowly, slowly!”
~ Kobayashi Issa

“Bran thought about it. ‘Can a man still be brave if he’s afraid?’
‘That is the only time a man can be brave,’ his father told him.”
~ George R.R. Martin, A Game of Thrones

 

Ah, Lovelies,

I’d hoped to be bringing you a good news post, a happy ‘post-surgery things are looking up’ story. And it is true, some things have improved. I am out of hospital. I am home in Brisbane, although not yet home to my precious farm. After an entire month of having my hair in a bun on the top of my head I have finally gotten all the knots from my hair and washed it (a three day effort that only others with chronic fatigue or pain will understand!). I have moved from a shuffling gait to a slow walk.

But I’m not as far along my healing journey as I had expected. Because, you see, having Lyme Disease complicates everything.

Having Chronic Late Stage Lyme Disease means that I’m immuno-compromised. Which is why I picked up two infections pre-surgery, which were treated with a metric tonne of antibiotics to get me infection-free before my operation. Treatment worked, but I was a ball of misery as the antibiotics killed not only my infections but lyme bacteria as well.

Surgery went well. Longer than expected and more complicated. I needed unplanned bowel and bladder surgery and repair. But I came out of it strongly and was making a good recovery, even on the new metric tonne of iv antibiotics and antibacterials I was given.

Unfortunately I then I caught a new infection (via my catheter we think) just as I was getting ready to leave hospital the first time. Tests showed it to be an antibiotic-resistant urinary tract infection superbug. It still responds to some old-school antibiotics, but not regular ones, so I was placed onto those.

One tablet, three times a day.

Which should have cleared it. But it didn’t, so now I am on massively increased doses. This old-school antibiotic is also used to clear late-stage lyme (but my urologist and gynecologist know nothing about that – Lyme is well outside their fields). It targets and kills the cyst form of the bacteria by damaging its DNA. Awesome news. So now I am on a drug that kills my superbug AND lyme. (The typical Lyme dose of this drug is just one tablet three times a week.)

Lots of lyme bacteria dying means lots of herxing. So now I am in agony. It hurts to pee. It hurts to poo. I can’t see out of my left eye, and vision is distorted from my right. I am sensitive to light and to sound. My skin hurts. My teeth hurt. My bones hurt. Old injuries are aching and paining. My muscles spasm and cramp. I have a killer headache. I am hot and cold in turns. I can’t sleep. It feels as if someone at odd times is tasering me, or pouring acid on my skin. And then there is my belly wound which goes from hip to hip, and the fact that my insides feel like someone has stitched them into a too tight sausage casing and then punched me in the gut a few times for good measure. And the pinched nerve in my back which has rendered one arm numb and painful and much less mobile than usual. Which instigated a case of shingles. My balance and strength is shot and I need a cane to walk. Let’s just say, it is not one of my better adventures.

I spent most of last night cry-laughing on the toilet. Because of my recent bladder repair it only holds about 200ml of fluid before I need to go, and I need to be drinking LOTS of water right now to flush both the drugs and infection from my system. Peeing hurts. A lot. Before, during and after. Although at least the feeling of pissing razorblades has resolved as the antibiotics kicked in and began working on this little superbug of mine. Now it only burns. So I sat on the toilet more than I was off it. Crying and laughing at the same time, because it was funny but pathetic, and scary but also ridiculous, and as I cried and laughed I panted power phrases like ‘This is just f*cked’ or ‘You can do this, Nic!’ depending on what frame of mind I was in for any given minute.

My friend Jennifer visited me while I was in the hospital and gave me a little bracelet. Inscribed on it is the phrase ‘Be Brave’. Those two words have been a constant reminder to me in the past few weeks. Be uncomplaining. Cry if I need to. Pull myself together. Chin up.

2016-09-17-10-04-21

I am mostly coping okay with the pain and lack of decent sleep. I am being well cared for by Ben, Nurse Bert, Cafe Dog and my dear friend Carly. I have everything I need. The hard thing is my vision loss (which is a temporary situation, we hope, and one I have faced several times while undergoing Lyme treatment in the past). This last fortnight I have had limited vision. My left eye is a complete blur, and my right eye has a restricted field of blurry vision – if I wear glasses, cover my left eye and increase my screen magnification by 300% I can read for short periods, but it is exhausting and gives me a headache. I can’t write. The television is a blur. Do you know how much stuff you suddenly can’t do when you can’t see?

I can’t check my messages on my phone or my emails. I can’t see my phone well enough to call a number – but Siri is getting good use as I task her to read my texts or call my mum. I can’t blog or update you. (I needed help to get this post written and published.) I can’t read any messages you may have written to me, so forgive me if I have not responded. Thank goodness for audio books and imagination land, and for good conversation in small doses.

I’m also exhausted, and after ten minutes of anything I am ready for a nap.

It isn’t where I expected to be, four weeks after surgery, but this is where I find myself. Nothing to do but wait for improvement.

I am good at sucking it up. Truth be told though, I am more than a bit over it. Still, it is what it is and it will get better – just maybe not in the timeframe I’d hoped for (and I am ALWAYS impatient!)

I’m missing my Year of ME Planner and choosing oracle cards to guide my week. I’m sad to be unable to tick things off my to-do list. From experience though, I know that it will all be waiting to help me get back on track again with all my dreams and projects just as soon as I am able. Meanwhile my wonderful team are working on all kinds of lovely things for next year’s Planner, our upcoming courses and retreats, and my new website. (Thank you Dana, Bek, Kerry, Chelsi and my PI transcription crew!)

I’m still sending you so much love in my daily meditations and healings, and I’m grateful for all the good energy you’ve sent my way too.

Hopefully things will sort out sooner rather than later and normal programming will resume. I’m looking forward to that. I AM getting better, it’s just a slow and bumpy road. Fingers crossed that my healing gets fast-tracked very soon. I am choosing to see all of this as a fabullous opportunity to kick Lyme’s butt in a bigger way than I had ever dreamed!

Hugs and love, Nicole xx

2016-09-24-08-55-52

A Little Nicole Update

2016-09-12-21-13-46

“People who want a cure, provided they can have it without pain, are like those who favour progress, provided they can have it without change.”
~ Anthony de Mello

 

So, here I am, still in hospital.

There have been a few little bumps in the road, including a massive resurgence of lyme symptoms and herxing, post-operation, as I was filled with what seemed like enough antibiotics and other drugs to treat an entire small pox-ridden and hurting country. My poor body has endured a bit of a rough ride. I’m bruised and bloated and scarred and bandaged. Wings of my hair have literally gone white overnight. It’s oddly fascinating.

As well as my four-hour surgery, I have needed to deal with unexpected bladder problems and surgery, lyme-induced loss of vision in my left eye, loss of balance, light sensitivity, bone and nerve pain, raging insomnia and terrible constipation and nausea from my pain meds.

And still, my doctors are pleased with my progress and I am healing well.

Between the pain, the constant intrusion of nurses doing observations, and the insomnia, that’s a lot of time awake. That’s a lot of time unable to be filled with television or books or iPad games or writing thanks to my dodgy eye. (I am writing this with a 200% screen magnification and one eye resolutely screwed closed. It’s taken me about fifteen spurts of energy and then rests to get all of this written; not my usual efficiency – but these are unusual circumstances.)

What can you do when you are in pain and unable to use external distractions? When you want to be able to work on your book but you can’t see to read the words?

I can happily report that I have spent most of the past eight days back in the Kimberley, with my Aboriginal Aunties. Using my imagination and memories as a portal I have returned again and again to the places and people so dear to me, and that form the backbone of my memoir.

I have sat with the late night silence and the loneliness, and spun them into a ladder to elevate me beyond my pain.

I have practiced deep listening.

I have meditated, and I have prayed.

I’ve also time-travelled back into myself. The hours between eleven pm and four am seem well-suited to reflection and analysis of my life. I’ve dug deep into places I had long covered over. What did I really feel? Why did I really make one choice over another? What emotions were in my body? Where was my head? I’ve strung the answers like beads on a mala, knowing that as I hold each one when I am able to come back to my writing I will remember, and that this new understanding will better inform my work. I’ve come to a more honest place. A kinder place. There has been much forgiveness this past week, of myself and others. My stay in hospital has gifted me clarity, and a way forward, finally, to be able to finish this book of mine, and get it ready to send out into the world.

The other thing I have done is gather life stories and vignettes; stories about the nurses and their lives, stories from cleaners and room service tray attendants, from the other patients who are limping slow laps of the ward as they push their drip stands or lug their wound drainage bags and catheter bags, tales from ward orderlies and the lady who brings the morning newspapers. People are endlessly fascinating to me, and their shared stories remind me that we are so alike in our differing journeys and struggles.

For we all face struggles. That is the nature of life. If it’s not one thing, it’s something else.

Even so, it’s a beautiful journey, life. I’m very grateful for mine.

Things will be back to normal, little by little, here on the blog and in my everyday world. I’m okay with things needing to be slow. Slow is all I can do for now.

I’ll swing by here again just as soon as I’m able.

Hugs and love, Nicole ❤ xx