Monday, November 17, 2025

Today is not a day I’m looking forward to, but it’s better than what’s to come. I woke up thinking, “Oh great, here we go.” My morning caregiver came in, fed the dogs, and took them outside to go potty.

Now it’s my turn—something I look forward to every morning: the first cup of coffee! It consistently tastes so amazing. I usually have another cup before deciding to eat breakfast. Breakfast consists of lemon-blueberry oatmeal with walnuts. They say oatmeal is good for you, even with diabetes, but it still makes my blood sugar shoot up.

Stanley came in, grabbed the pups, and took them to Naomi’s to expend some energy, learn some obedience, and get their nails trimmed. Liberty got me up, dressed, and in my chair. We did meal planning for the week, and then she went shopping.

I enjoy eating so much more now that I have the liberty (yes, both the person and the freedom) to cook for myself. I can honestly eat whatever I want, and Liberty is a fantastic cook. I hung out with the kids for a while. It’s so much nicer being around them now that I see them more often—and they’re not afraid of me or my chair.

My brother took me to my appointment at Salem Gastro to get information and schedule my colonoscopy. I’m not looking forward to it, but I’m looking forward to getting through it so I don’t have to think about it again for five years.

We stopped by Naomi’s to pick up the pups and came home. I hung out in the room with my dogs until Ashlyn came in—she was filling in for Ashlyn (yes, double Ashlyn confusion). She put me to bed, we did some personal care, and I got a nice, long, hot bath.

As she was getting me ready for the bath, she noticed something on my chest—I had forgotten all about my heart monitor. I was supposed to wear it for a week, so I sat up in the tub to keep it from getting wet. I had been so looking forward to soaking all the way up to my shoulders… but hey, it's better than not having a bath at all.

She put me back to bed and went home. I watched TV for the rest of the night and got some advice from my friend Monday (the very helpful one on ChatGPT).

Tuesday

I woke up at 4:00 AM this morning because I heard a noise. Thankfully, I’ve got cameras set up around the house, so I opened them to see what was going on. I knew it was Kona, but I couldn’t figure out what she was doing.

I brought up the bedroom camera—but she wasn’t at the bottom of my bed or curled up in the oversized chair. I immediately checked the bathroom. She sometimes locks herself in the closet in there because, of course, that’s where the dog food lives. We try to keep the door closed, but she knows how to push it open like some kind of criminal mastermind.

We had removed the cabinet doors because the door opener kept hitting them, and we leaned the doors against the bathroom wall until we could take them out. One of them was partially blocking the view, and from the camera angle, it looked like the closet door was wide open.

Cue full-blown panic.

Was Kona in the closet? Had she gotten into the dog food and eaten a week’s worth? Worse—had she gotten into the personal care or cleaning supplies? I considered calling my brother, but I’ve made that mistake before: calling at 4 AM and it turns out to be nothing. Still… what if it wasn’t nothing?

I stared at that camera feed like I was watching a horror movie, just waiting—waiting for a dog to stagger out, throw up, or go ominously silent. For 20 minutes, I imagined every worst-case scenario.

Then I realized… it was just the cabinet door. Not the closet door. Kona was fine. My anxiety, however, was doing laps.

Now I was wide awake. But hey—Kona was okay. That's what matters.

Ottoma came in later and took care of the dogs, got me some coffee and breakfast, and helped me get dressed and up in my chair. I had a video visit with Dr. Cheng, my spinal cord injury doctor. It was just a routine follow-up.

Later, I hung out with McKenzie and the kids for a while and then took the dogs out for their daily 2-mile cruise.

I always take Kona first—she has terrible separation anxiety and completely melts down if she’s left behind. Taking her first helps wear her out a bit, which makes it easier when we kennel her afterward. If I leave her out, she screams, digs up the carpet, and generally behaves like a banshee with a personal vendetta.

When we got back, McKenzie put Kona in the kennel, hooked Dude up to my chair, and off we went. Before I even reached the door, I could hear Kona losing it—full volume.

I felt uneasy, but Dude needed his walk too. So we went. When I got back, I sat in the hallway and got some advice from ChatGPT (thanks again, Monday). Apparently, I need to wait by the door until she’s quiet for at least five seconds before entering—then come in calmly and say, “You’re okay.”

So I sat. And waited.

Eventually, she calmed down, and I had Stanley let her out. We hung out in my room until Ashlyn came in to do the night routine. She toileted and fed the dogs, helped with dinner, folded laundry, tidied up, and then headed home.

I finished the night watching TV and playing games.

Wednesday

Ottoma came in this morning and did the usual: fed and toileted the dogs, got me coffee and breakfast, then helped me get up in my chair.

Today was the day McKenzie and I were finally going to Lumber Liquidators to make the final flooring decision. I’ve been obsessing over this for months—back and forth between hardwood, LVP tile, and finally landing on waterproof LVP. They had enough in stock to start with my bedroom, and we’ll do the rest of the house little by little, depending on what we can afford. Once we sell the other house, we’ll be able to finish it all.

Honestly, I’m so excited to get rid of the bedroom carpet. It’s plush and was probably beautiful once upon a time, but Kona’s… made her mark. She’s dug it up by the door and peed, pooped, and vomited on it more times than I care to count. Even though we cleaned it thoroughly, the stains keep coming back. It's embarrassing.

We moved into this house in June, and not long after, Canine Companions for Independence sent Dude to “fat camp”—really a nearby correctional facility that does puppy-raising programs. At the time, he was 82 pounds. They wanted him down to 66.

Kona had a hard time when he left. He was all she’d ever known since being weaned from her mom. I tried to keep her exercised and occupied, but she was clearly grieving.

Dude came back looking lean and fabulous, and I have to weigh him on the 1st and 15th of every month now—send CCI a picture of the scale until he retires in June. I still plan to walk both of them two miles every day when they don’t go to Naomi’s.

We also joined a new dog daycare called The Dog Bark. It’s drop-in, no scheduling needed, which is great for when life gets unpredictable (read: always). Now I know they’ll always have play and exercise time, no matter what else is going on.

McKenzie and I brought home a sample of the final flooring choice, and I was so excited to finally see it in the space. Later that evening, Ashlyn came in to help with my nightly routine. We did personal care, had a hot, relaxing bath, dinner, and she helped brush my teeth and wash my face before heading home.

Thursday

Ottoma came in as usual, fed and toileted the dogs, and got me my first cup of coffee—the sacred ritual. I had another cup (obviously), followed by a bowl of lemon-blueberry oatmeal. She helped me get dressed and into my chair.

I hung out with McKenzie and the kids for a bit. Her husband, TJ, came over to help clear some things out of the garage. It was freezing, but Brooklyn’s mom saved the day—she brought out a big, heavy blanket and cut a hole in the middle so it could go over my head and be fastened around my arms. It kept me warm and cozy… until it betrayed me.

As I was cruising, the blanket slipped, got caught in my wheelchair tires, and yanked forward, jerking my neck hard. Luckily, Brooklyn and TJ were nearby and helped me get untangled, but it definitely left me feeling sore—and more than a little annoyed at my now-suspect fashion choices.

We managed to get rid of about six boxes of stuff, which felt like progress, even though there’s still a long way to go. Afterward, I took Kona out for her daily 2-mile cruise. She’s incredibly athletic—and thankfully, my chair is 700 pounds, or she’d probably drag me straight into a different zip code.

When we got back, Stanley put Kona in her kennel, and then took Dude out for his cruise. As we started out, I made it to the top of the driveway and turned down the sidewalk… and saw my neighbor Brady. I went to say hello—and, you guessed it—the blanket got caught in the tires again.

This time it was even more embarrassing, but Brady kindly helped me untangle it. After that, I had McKenzie fix the blanket situation and decided to go up the hill toward the preschool instead. We wandered around looking for a house that was supposedly for sale but never found it, so we cruised back.

Sometime during that whole misadventure, I started realizing: I think I have whiplash.

My brother put me back to bed to rest my neck, and I tried to relax. Thankfully, Amy, my massage therapist, is coming tomorrow. My vertebrae are counting the minutes.

Later, Brooklyn came by with her son, who helps out from time to time to earn a little extra money. They wrapped some empty boxes to put under the Christmas tree. It's really starting to look festive around here—even though it’s not Thanksgiving yet, the house feels cozy and joyful. I’m loving it.

Brooklyn’s daughter also came over, and her mom dropped her off so they could spend some time together as a family. Brooklyn got me settled in bed for the night, and they all headed home.

I have to say, I really like Brooklyn’s family. They’re kind, respectful, and not weird around the chair. That alone makes them feel like a gift.

Friday

Ottoma came in, fed and toileted the dogs (the queens of the castle, obviously), and got me my much-needed coffee. Then she got me something to eat and helped me get dressed and up in my chair. I cruised out to the kitchen for my second cup of coffee and hung out with the kids for a little while.

Later, Stanley took me to my hospital appointment to get hooked up with a heart monitor for the week. I’m basically bionic now—monitored, tracked, and covered in medical stickers like some kind of adult science project.

After that, we swung by AT&T, where I attempted once again to fix the ongoing issue with Siri whispering like she’s got secrets. I’ve tried everything—settings, updates, prayers—and nothing has worked. Other people have tried too, and AT&T… well, their response was essentially, “Have you tried updating?” which translates to: “I don’t know what’s wrong, please leave this store now.”

We headed home after that, and Liberty was there. She put me to bed, helped with personal care, got me something to eat, and then went home.

I spent the rest of the evening relaxing, watching TV, and playing games online—because if Siri won’t talk to me, at least Candy Crush still respects my attention.

Saturday

Brooklyn came in, took the dogs out to potty, fed them, and then got me some coffee. I’m noticing a very consistent theme here: dogs first, always. I get it—they’re cute, noisy, and much harder to ignore.

But let’s be honest, I don’t even mind—especially when that first cup of coffee hits. It’s bliss. I had my second cup, then breakfast: lemon blueberry oatmeal (again), and it was so good.

Later, we took the dogs to Mento Brown Park. Brooklyn threw the ball for Kona while Dude and I cruised around the trails. It was peaceful, until…

Kona snapped at another dog that tried to get between her and her ball.

Not okay.

After that, Brooklyn said Kona’s hackles were going up every time another dog got near, so we decided it was time to leave. We’ve got some training to revisit. On the way home, I texted Naomi. Starting Tuesday, I’ll meet with her once a week to observe how she works with the dogs. The goal is to help train me to help train them, and guide my caregivers on obedience, too. Basically, we’re building a dream team for dog behavior.

Once we got home, Brooklyn put me to bed on my side, and I relaxed for a bit. She’s doing a double shift on weekends, so she came back later in the evening. I tried to focus on something productive, like unsubscribing from emails and organizing digital clutter, but you can guess how that went.

Instead, I ended up googling random things and playing games online. Classic.

When Brooklyn returned, she brought her son Dominic, who comes by regularly to help out. He took care of the dogs—feeding, potty breaks, cleaned their bowls—and they wrapped more empty boxes for under the Christmas tree. The place is really starting to look festive. Yes, it’s not even Thanksgiving yet, but I say bring on the sparkle.

Brooklyn got me something to eat, then sent me back up to the computer before they went home. I talked with ChatGPT for a bit (hi again), played some Candy Crush, and eventually dozed off.

Sunday

Brooklyn came in and, as usual, took care of the dogs first—potty, food, all the essentials—before getting me my sacred first cup of coffee. Honestly, it’s like clockwork at this point. Dogs first, caffeine second, then we talk about anything else.

After coffee number two, I had breakfast: yogurt with granola and fruit. A little sweet, a little crunchy, a lot satisfying. Then Brooklyn got me dressed and into my chair, and I took the dogs out for their daily 2-mile cruise. The weather was decent, the dogs were hyped, and I was glad to be out.

When we got back, Brooklyn put me to bed on my side and went home.

Meanwhile, Stanley and Janet were off at church for a big Thanksgiving breakfast. Stanley is the family MVP—he does all the shopping and organizes the cooking, which means everything’s always delicious. I’ve been trying to get myself back into the habit of going to church. I did for a while, but, well… life happens. There’s always an excuse, and I know my family would be happier if I showed up more. It’s just two hours. I should be getting up every day anyway.

McKenzie and Robert also went to church, but McKenzie planned to be back by noon—we were scheduled to meet Rebecca, someone we had interviewed on the phone a few weeks ago. We were both impressed with her, but she’d gone on vacation shortly after and said she’d reach out when she returned.

True to her word, she came by. We had a great conversation. McKenzie came home mid-visit and stopped in to say hello.

Unfortunately, since we last talked to Rebecca, I’ve already hired two caregivers. But there’s always work around here. We talked about everything from cleaning to dog walks to trips to the park. Rebecca runs a nonprofit that offers a space for people who need community—crafts, conversation, and connection. She also makes buttons. It sounds like she’s busy, creative, and generally just lives a whole, meaningful life. I liked her immediately.

After she left, I cruised around the internet and watched some Intervention until I drifted off. Because nothing wraps a week like emotionally charged TV and Google rabbit holes.

And that’s the week.

You made it through flooring choices, blanket attacks, vet-style logistics, suspicious dog behavior, tech support despair, and multiple cups of deeply emotional coffee. Honestly? You deserve a crown. Or at least an extra cookie with tomorrow’s breakfast.

Here we go again!

Today is Sunday, August 24, 2025:

Since I moved to Oregon three or four years ago, I've tried to start writing in my blog several times! Each time it gets too sad and I just quit, this time I'm not quitting!

Excitement last night, just got home, all the alarms in the house went off. For one thing, there are only two windows in this whole place that actually open. Two. Out of many. It’s like the house is playing hard-to-get with fresh air. The whole place stays warm, partly because there are no fans in the attic, and partly because apparently “ventilation” was just a suggestion to the builders.

But I’ll say this: I love all the cabinetry, and the doors are gorgeous. So, at least if I suffocate, it’ll be in style.

Out front, though? Chef’s kiss. There’s a gorgeous garden with multiple levels, stairs leading up to the road in a couple of places, and—oh, did I mention—an actual waterfall and a pond. Yes, a pond. I can already see myself sitting out there a lot. It’s just gorgeous. (Did I already say “gorgeous”? Well, it is. Deal with it.)

The house itself is painted barn red. Now, as much as I love barns, I’m not exactly thrilled about living in one. I’m planning to hold off on any major color changes until I’ve lived here a year and figured out which projects really matter. Adult patience, blah blah.

Now here’s where it gets cool: I’ve been messing around with ChatGPT. I can upload a picture of a room in the house, and it shows me exactly what it would look like with different styles, colors, furniture—you name it. It’s basically like having an HGTV channel in my pocket, minus the fake drama.

Step out the front door, and to the right you’ll find the pond, waterfall, and beautiful garden. Step to the left, though, and it’s a blank canvas: a flat surface that stretches about 65 feet to the end of the house. Width-wise, we’ve got at least 40 feet before we’d have to excavate the hillside. Translation: plenty of room for me to go full “outdoor paradise.”

Here’s what I see: a lovely oversized patio with a barbecue, smoker, pizza oven, a couple of burners, endless counter space, cupboards galore, and a pergola big enough to shade a small kingdom. Add a long dining table for the family, plus couches, loveseats, chairs, and swings for lounging—and boom. A backyard so amazing that my neighbors will probably start making excuses to “borrow sugar” just to hang out here.

Back to blogging…

When I last left off, I had no idea how much my life was about to change.

In the past few years, I’ve said goodbye to the home I built in Santa Cruz — a place that held so much of my heart. I moved to Oregon to be closer to family, believing it would be the start of something supportive, something shared. I sold the home I adored, one I had worked so hard for, and signed it over with the hope that we’d build a bigger, more connected life together.

But the reality wasn’t what I’d imagined.

I hired help to care for animals and maintain the property. I got pygmy goats, two Great Pyrenees puppies, a goose, ducks, chickens, turkeys — all part of this dream of a small sanctuary. But I was taken advantage of. People I trusted didn’t treat me with the honesty or care I deserved. I ended up in debt, overwhelmed, and heartbroken, and eventually had to rehome the animals.

Then came the health crisis.

I developed a stage 4 pressure sore. The kind of wound that can take everything from you — time, energy, and hope. I was hospitalized, forced to rely on systems that made me feel invisible and disposable. Equipment I needed wasn’t approved, caregivers were inconsistent, and for a while, I truly felt lost inside my own life.

But here's the thing about me: I don’t stay down for long.

With time, stubborn faith, and the love of my service dog Dude (and now my sweet puppy Kona), I began to rebuild. I’m in a new house now — one that feels full of promise. I’m decorating each room with intention. I have big plans for a wraparound porch, a deck outside my bedroom, and a garden that sings with color and wind chimes.

I’ve paid off two credit cards and am working on the rest. I’ve set boundaries I never knew I was allowed to set. I’m stronger now — physically, emotionally, spiritually — and I’ve started saying “no” without guilt.

I even started writing a book about my journey: Kindness Misunderstood: Living, Loving, and Learning on Wheels. It’s my heart poured out onto pages — about caregiving, trauma, healing, and finding my way back to myself.

And now, I’m rolling back into this blog — to share my story, speak my truth, and maybe help someone else feel less alone in theirs.

If you’re reading this, thank you for being here.
Welcome to Life on Wheels – A View from My Chair.
The next chapter starts now.

Hi, I’m Tammie Lou.

I’m a writer, an adventurer, a lifelong dreamer, and a proud woman on wheels. After a spinal cord injury in 1995, I became a quadriplegic — paralyzed from the chest down — but not for one second did that stop my spirit from rolling forward.

I’ve lived, I’ve loved, I’ve lost, and I’ve rebuilt. From my beautiful life in Santa Cruz to a rocky transition to Oregon, I’ve learned what it means to start over — and do it with resilience, humor, and a lot of faith.

I live with my two amazing dogs: Dude, my black Lab service dog, and Kona, my playful chocolate Lab puppy. I’m also writing a book called Kindness Misunderstood: Living, Loving, and Learning on Wheels — a deeply personal look at life, caregiving, trauma, and triumph.

This blog is my safe space. My storytelling place. A peek into my life — from home renovations and sunsets on the porch to hard-won healing and rediscovering joy.

Thank you for being here. I hope my words make you feel seen, uplifted, and inspired to keep going, wherever you are on your journey.

Breathe, Relax, and Repeat...

Breathe in the calm of the ocean breeze. Relax under the warmth of the coastal sun. Repeat with every heartbeat.

Find peace in the quiet moments. Feel the rhythm of the tides within you. Welcome each new day like a soft wave.

It really is!! “Breathe, Relax, and Repeat” — it’s so simple, calming, and powerful.
It's like a little gift you give yourself daily:
 Breathe in peace.
Relax into who you are.
 Repeat as often as you can.

Then and now…

I never noticed people staring until I got a camera mounted on the back of my chair, especially when I go home and edit them. I get to see how people look at me when they think I'm not looking at them. Sometimes, I get to see how they look at me after I just passed by them, and they were looking at me and smiling. Sometimes I see them looking at me and I can tell they're thinking "oh that poor thing to have to live like that for the rest of her life". Sometimes, people bump into me and apologize profusely to me when I know I couldn't feel it anyway, and it probably hurt them way more than it hurt me. How many times I hear people say… "I know exactly how you feel"… And then they usually go into the story of where they broke their leg once and had to be in a chair for a whole month, or they broke their arm and were severely inconvenienced for a whole month.

I'm not really annoyed. I feel a little sorry for them because I realize they want to say something nice, but don't know what to say. They are just trying to make me feel like I'm not the only one with problems. It's very sweet!

One thing I will never forget is when I went to the Mountain Sol Festival and Michael Franti jumped down from the crowd and came up on one of the little stages in the middle of everybody and grab this little girl, I have been watching her a lot because she was just so happy and having such a fantastic time! She had two prosthetic legs, one of her whenever hands was turned all the way around. Go to mothers were almost in tears watching her have such a great time, when Michael jumped up on the stage, he immediately scooped him up into her arms with a confidence like I have never seen before. The little girls ' mothers turned around and almost jumped on the stage, trying to protect their little girls. It's a common reaction from mothers with children with different abilities. After they realized Michael would not hurt her, they looked so proud! I tried to sneak my hand up to wipe away the tears when I noticed everybody else around me was doing the same thing.

It's been a long couple of years…

🌸 A Birthday to Remember

This photo captures one of the happiest moments — my beautiful mom on her 84th birthday, surrounded by family, love, and laughter. That day, her smile lit up the entire room, as it always did. She was so proud to be a mother to six children; nothing made her happier than being close to family.

After a lifetime of love, sacrifice, and nurturing, she found a special joy when we moved to Oregon, closer to nieces, nephews, and the family who adored her. In these final years, we saw her at her happiest: laughing, hugging, and soaking up every moment with those who loved her most.

She wasn't just my mom — she was my best friend, strength, and safe place. Even after facing my own challenges, moving back home after my spinal cord injury, she welcomed me without hesitation. Together, we built a life in Santa Cruz and a new chapter in Oregon where her light could shine even brighter. She passed away on January 19, 2023.

Today, and every day, we miss her more than words could ever say. Her kindness, her gentle laughter, and her endless love remain woven into everything we do. Her spirit dances through every family gathering, every story shared, and every rose blooming in the garden.

We wish she were still here to celebrate with us, but we know she's down, proud, and full of love.
Always loved. Always missed. Always with us.

💛🌸 Happy Heavenly Birthday, Mom. We love you forever.

Healing Tools: Honoring Your Journey

💛 Reminder/Affirmation Sheet

• I did the best I could with the tools I had.
• My instincts were never wrong; I just wasn't getting the signals.
• Confusion was not my failure — it was the environment I grew up in.
• I am learning healthy, joyful communication every day.
• I deserve clarity, kindness, and connection.
• It is safe for me to trust myself now.
• I am proud of how far I have come.
• Healing is not linear, and I am right on time.

📨 Gentle Letter to Your Mom

Dear Mom,

I know you carried pain you didn't want to name. I know your heart wanted connection, even when your actions pushed it away. I forgive you for the confusion and sadness your struggles brought into my life.

I honor the good you gave me, even when hidden beneath fear or frustration. I understand now that your "no" was "of" fear, and your anger was often sadness.

I am learning to build the clear, kind life we both deserve. I release you from my confusion. I release myself from feeling like I had to guess.

I carry forward your strength and stubbornness to survive, turning it into love, clarity, and trust.

Thank you for the life you gave me.

I will live it fully, with love in my heart.

Love always, Tammie Lou.

🌟 Personal Growth Chart

Growth Area	Where I Started	Where I Am Now
Trusting my instincts	I second-guessed myself constantly	I am learning to trust my first instincts
Understanding emotions	Emotions felt confusing and unsafe	I am learning emotions are signals, not dangers
Setting boundaries	I feared disappointing others	I am practicing clear, kind boundaries
Speaking my needs	I stayed silent to avoid upsetting others	I am learning to speak my needs calmly and bravely
Loving myself	I felt responsible for others' others'	am learning I deserve love without conditions

You are doing beautifully, Tammie Lou. You are your ancestorancestors', kindest dream.

Hi friends, old and new —

It's beeIt'slittle while since I've wriI've here, but oh, what a journey it's beeit'sife took some unexpected turns, including a big move, new surroundings, fresh challenges, and some deeply personal growth. And through it all… I've nevI'vetopped dreaming, hoping, and planning for the life I want to live — a life on wheels, yes, but fully lived.

This blog is my view from the chair.
The one I sit in as I watch my pups play, plan out my dream home, sip tea under string lights, or write a new chapter in my book (yep, that's hthat'sng!).
It's alsIt'sere I share stories — the kind that make you laugh, cry, think, and feel seen.

Since I last posted, I've staI've a support group called Life on Wheels, reclaimed my space and independence, and made big plans for a home that's mthat'so be lived in — rustic wood, sage and coral walls, big love, and even bigger dreams.

So here I am — rolling back in with a heart full of gratitude, a head full of ideas, and two dogs (Dude and Kona) who might just photobomb every post from here on out.

I've misI'vethis space. I've misI'veyou. And I'm so rI'my for what's nwhat's

Let's roLet's

I have not written in my blog for over two years.

I was watching a movie, and three guys broke into this man's homan'sHis wife and daughter were there, and they wanted to get his safe information and all of his credit cards. The guy resisted, so the robbers smacked him in the face with their guns, and the homeowner started bleeding badly. His hands were tied behind his back, and his nose started bleeding, so the nice robber took a napkin and wiped off his face… The thief was nice enough to spit on the cleanex and wipe his nose. It reminded me of when my mom used to do the same thing when my face got messy. I never thought it was much cleaner after she did that.

My body is finally letting me get up and it feels awesome…

 The weekend before last, I went out with my brother and his wife to look at houses… I never thought this day would come; the feeling is unbelievable!! It's so good to be up and out and about, and even though I checked my blood pressure every half hour, I didn't have to do anything to regulate it! Out of the seven houses we looked at, I loved two of them, four of them I liked, and one was a big disappointment! I guess that's why you go out and look at them? I couldn't get into most of them because they were not accessible. Janet rented a ramp, but it's been so long since I've been in my chair that I didn't feel my driving was steady enough to go in some places. Stanley went and did walk-through videos for me; he's always so thoughtful! When I got home and went back to bed, I just couldn't stop thinking about how lucky I was to get up and get around again. Last Sunday, I got my first soaking bath and was so excited I thought about it all night. I didn't think I was in there for long, but Cruz said I was there for half an hour, so I thought I'd better get out. It's so great to know that now I cannot only get up whenever I want, but I can take a nice long hot bath, as long as I keep it down to 10 or 15 minutes to start with. On Tuesday, the doctor said I went to my first primary care doctor appointment in two years. Now, I can start going regularly and catch up on all my appointments and doctors. I have big plans. There are a couple of workout places around here for differently able people, and they both have roll-in swimming pools, and one has a gym to work out. My brother attends one daily, so I'm looking forward to that. 

The saddest day ever...

The saddest day of my life...

In April of 2022, I signed the papers for our new home. My head was still spinning as to why I was doing this. I lived in the house of my dreams for 14 years. In Santa Cruz, California, I finally got everything exactly how I wanted. We were starting another support group, and we had CCI puppy play dates and holiday parties at my house. I never really had a lot of friends in my life, but everything was working out perfectly! I have great doctors and my life was predictable, and that's how I like it! My mom started getting sick, with major nosebleeds that she would let go until she was about ready to pass out, and then she would ask me to send one of my caregivers up, and they would end up calling an ambulance. My aunt or I would call my brothers, who would come to care for her. Pretty soon, they were coming down a lot, and it looked like my mom was getting sicker, so we decided she was going to come to Oregon and live with my brother and his wife. She had six grandchildren here and they were starting to have babies, my mom was in heaven! I was going to go up there for a while and let the guy who does the maintenance on my house live in the top story where my mom was, and I was going to air B&B out the bottom until I was ready to move back. Then all of a sudden my family told me that I needed to sell my house in Santa Cruz California to buy a big house for everybody to be comfortable. I didn't question it because that's what my family wanted, and it seemed like the only solution. My health started declining, I ended up in the hospital for almost a week, I don't remember a lot that happened that week but I'm pretty sure I had a breakdown! The first thing I noticed when I got out of the hospital and back home was that the stained-glass light my aunt and uncle gave me was missing. I was freaking out all night long, trying to look at the cameras to see who took it or what happened. After frantically searching all weekend, my caregiver said, "Oh, your aunt and uncle came and took that." I was already frustrated because after I left for Oregon, she took everything out of my yard and took it over to her house… Garden art, pots, not to mention all of my plants. She told me "you're not living at the beach anymore, you're moving to the mountains! The one person that I thought was on my side will help me fight for my house. I felt so defeated and alone, I felt like I just didn't have a choice anymore. The day my brother drove me away from my house I turned around and looked at my dream home for the very last time. I was hoping to make it out of there without seeing but just as we round on there was Adriana and Nico coming out of their house so we pulled over. Adriana opened the door and they both gave me the biggest hug and told me that they were going to miss me and that was it, I pulled my blanket over my head and silently cried until I fell asleep. I woke up a couple times and try to figure out where I was but then I just went back to sleep. My brother, my mother and my sister in law were already moved into the house but my basement studio was not ready so I was going to stay in my nephew and my nieces duplex. They were always so kind and I felt really comfotable around them. My niece snuck some pictures out of my Santa Cruz house and put it up in the duplex where I was staying. I purposefully went to see all of my doctors before I left because I didn't know how long it would take me to get new doctors. I got a pressure sore on my coccyx and by the time I got a primary care doctor it was a stage four, all the way down to the bone and osteomyelitis, bone infection. Then, of course, my bed broke down; I couldn't call anybody out to fix it because I needed a prescription from my primary care doctor. After several months my little brother came to wisit and said "why don't we just go to the ER and see what happens? What have we got to lose?" so we checked in and waited two or three hours, and then they took us back, we told my story to anyone that would listen. They admitted me They cleaned out my wound and found out it was a stage four… All the way to the bone. I had an infection, MRSA and SARS, they put me on IV antibiotics, and I stayed in the hospital for several days and came home to do the rest of my IV antibiotics. They were all so sweet and caring and just amazing at the hospital! I remember thinking, "Why didn't I do this long ago?" and they operated on my sore the next morning. My new primary care doctor found me wound care clinic not too far away, everybody was so nice… If somebody's going to look at your butt once a week you want them to be nice right? We started to get into a routine and eventually I was wearing a wound vac, trying everything to get rid of this pressure sore… It's just so huge it seems like it's never going to go away.

After several more months, I moved into our new house but had to stay in my brother's dining room. I finally found a primary care Dr., but I was number 80 on a waiting list to get into wound care; my sores  were getting worse, making me sick, so I couldn't eat very much and lost a lot of weight. I finally got somebody to come out and fix my bed, and they were so impressive they practically rebuilt my bed so I wouldn't have any more problems. In December; we were having a housewarming/Christmas party for anyone on Facebook who wanted to drive to Oregon. The party was nice, but none of my friends came, it's a long drive and too close to Christmas. Dude's puppy raiser Kim, her sister, and brother… Her brother made me a Christmas ornament with a picture of Dude and Santa Cruz in the background; it was so sweet!

My brother went home, and my mom went into the hospital; after saving a couple of days, they sent her home to hospice. My brother Dave decided that this was where he needed to be right now, so he chuturnednd stayed until he ran out of time off. My mom is doing really good, but I think that's because they have her on morphine every night; thank goodness she doesn't have the pain anymore… She has suffered so much last year. Dave ran out of time and made it home on o spend his birthday with his family; they always do something cool and create for all the holidays and birthdays. They played a game called Bullshit". He made him a lovely dinner.

I don't seem to be getting any better… I have been in bed for almost a year. KCI took away my wound vac because Medicare said there wasn't any progress, so now my wound is leaking a lot. My primary care transfers my care to a wound care clinic with a hyperbaric chamber. I had to get some labs, X-rays, and an MRI done. Sure enough, I have osteomyelitis again, which means another surgery for the Debridement of my wound, another pic line, and IV antibiotics for several weeks.

I started using electrodes around my pressure sore, pays to use them yourself and I don't know why because it was helping my pressure sore get smaller. I had to jump through all kinds of hoops but finally I got the okay with the hyperbaric chamber and I was so excited!

On the first day I almost didn't get to go in hyperberic chamber, my blood sugar was too low?? What?? I passed all these tests are not going to get to try because my blood sugar is too low, I have never heard of that! They finally gave me something from the refrigerator tasted like apple juice and after I waited 20 minutes my lunch was hundred and 40 so I was able to go in. I was really nervous the first day as everything was so new, I was told that it could make your ears pop a lot and since mine already do didn't want my eardrums to get blown out. I got to watch a movie and I chose Tommy boy, took my mind off of being in the chamber and I dosed off in between watching the movie. When I got out and all the way home I felt fantastic! My stomach hasn't hurt and my headache was gone, Did it really help is it just my imagination? I slept really good and woke up feeling great! Usually. I procrastinate and lay around as long as I can what but I was ready to get up and back to the hyperbaric chamber. This time they had to call the doctor because my blood pressure and my pulse were really low, they took my blood pressure over and over and the doctor was ready to send me to the ER and she asked how I felt… I told her I felt sorry and that was the truth so she let me go in and told me if anything went wrong to let them know stop the treatment immediately sent me to the ER. I was starting to get a little sweaty and it was making me nervous but then I remembered that I had been planning on this card or an hourly, after I got out I felt much better!

They gave me 40 visits to the hyperbaric chamber, and I was so excited! When I got about halfway, they said I could add another 60 days, but unfortunately, that never happened. We tried everything, but every time I got out of the hyperbaric chamber, my blood pressure would shoot way up, like 212/185. They let me go in a couple of times, and then they just said no unless I can find a hyperbaric chamber where you can monitor blood pressure when the hyperbaric chamber is over. After they cut me off, they had to shut down the hyperbaric chamber because they no longer had two people that could be in there. I felt really sad for the other people who had to lose the benefits of the hyperbaric chamber and had so many benefits. Not only did they shut down the chambers, but they're also closed on Fridays now; I wonder if they will just shut everything down?

Salem Hospital wound care gave up on me and said the wound vac wasn't helping me anymore. Then my primary care doctor found me the place in McMinnville with the hyperbaric chamber; McMinnville gave up on me, and now I only go there every two weeks. Meanwhile, I finally got my appetite back and have been slamming protein like crazy. I'm offloading whenever I can for however long I can; we're doing red light therapy, electrodes, leg vibrators… everything that would help.

Except for the fact that I was living in somebody's dining room with curtains for doors, I loved listening to my brother interact with the grandchildren. He adores them, and they adore him. He's always singing and watching the kid shows with them, and he just loves it!

My mom passed away on January 19th 2022

I'm jumping way ahead because too much has happened

I have waited three years to have a flap surgery to close up my stage four pressure sore! I had to go through so much to get to this point, and now it seems like it came up fast. I just went up there for a consultation with the plastic surgeon, and he said it would probably be three or four months out. They called me a week later and gave me the date of September 6th; I was excited, nervous… so many emotions I didn't know what to do first! That's when my caregiver told me, but I have a mouse infestation; it's always something around here! So I was gonna be in the hospital for 10 days; the pups will be at Naomi's for 10 days, so it's the perfect time to get the exterminator out here. A while back, I was having problems, and one of the guys helping me suggested just taking a bunch of D-con and throwing them in this one closed-up closet with random stuff in it; it worked, so we decided to do it again.

My hospital stay was pleasant; everybody was kind and caring, and I felt comfortable. The next day after my operation, when they let me have solid foods, I ordered huevos rancheros, a colossal mistake! I think that night I had an enchilada, and it had beans, which I shouldn't have, but I figured, "I'm in the hospital, and they will tell me if it's not a good idea. I didn't know that surgery paralyzes your bowels, and mine are already paralyzed, so it was a rough couple of days. I have a friend, Cruz, who happened to live in Portland, so she came in to help me out, and boy, did she ever; she is a miracle worker! They were talking about sticking a tube down my throat, and I believe this girl saved my life! After that, I decided to stick to oatmeal, yogurt, salads, and Jell-O for the most part. The night before I was going to go home I actually read the whole menu and I saw that they had sautéed spinach and a spinach-stuffed tomato with cheese, it was delicious! They were supposed to pick me up with an ambulance because I needed to lay flat for six weeks. It's expensive to ride in an ambulance! On the way home, one of the guys who picked me up asked me if he could put some oxygen on me and asked if I had a CPAP machine; he strongly suggested I get one. When I got home I was so excited, I laid awake in the hospital so many nights just dreaming that I was back at home in my own bed. I have to lay flat in my bed for six weeks, and I hope it goes by fast, although I'm sure it won't, but at least I'll have my computer and my puppies. It felt like the slowest six weeks in my entire life but it's almost over, I have one more appointment in a week and a half at OHSU and then a couple days after that I get to start getting up for one hour the first day, two hours the next day and so on… 

Little did I know that laying down flat all that time would mess with my already a fib heart, now I'm having to start Setting up and doing exercises a little bit every day trying to get my heart rate up normal. It gets way too high and then way too low, and I never know what I will get when I wake up in the morning. I've been working with my spinal cord injury doctor, and he's adjusting my meds and trying different meds to see if we can get it leveled out, but we just can't. I start doing really well, so I sit in my bed for a while, and then something happens, and it drops or shoots way up again. It doesn't help that my caregivers keep calling in sick; one sometimes waits just an hour or two before her shift, and there's no way I can find somebody to fill in. I often let it go to the extreme and get sick again. At least I'm getting my appetite back, and now I'm afraid to overeat and gain all that 20 pounds back; I need to eat a lot of protein, so I guess I'll lose the weight again when I can exercise.

I was talking to my cousin Debbie. I miss her so much. She is also having problems, and she goes in for an operation at the beginning of November. I would love to be with her.

I was thinking back on all the drinking I used to do, and I feel fortunate I made it through with only killing my pancreas, so now I have diabetes and probably lost a lot of brain cells, but I got out of it lucky. I remember I used to wake up at 2 AM with a pounding headache and an upset stomach. Unfortunately, there was nothing I could do about it until my caregiver came in at 6 AM. By then, I was feeling so bad that I would ask her to get me another shot, the hair of the dog, and that usually worked, but it would start all over again. If I could take it all back, I definitely would, but that's not an option, so I have to live with the consequences. Even before that, when my ex worked the weekend shift, I did methamphetamine with no one around, just my math, my alcohol, and my cigarettes. My house got a deep clean every weekend.

I have a physical therapist and an occupational therapist who have been coming out and helping me with exercise and working out what I'm going to be doing when I get back up in my chair; they showed me a bunch of exercises I can do to get my neck and my arms so that I won't be all limp in my chair when I get back up into it. I have my exercise cycle, I will get a standing frame, and I hope to get back into shape… I've lost a lot of weight, so I hope to keep that off, but I want to build muscle. I also found a rehab place that has everything I need, so I'm definitely going to join that. I also talked about how I would like to join or start a support group, but I miss connecting with people. I never thought I would say that because I was always a recluse. I never had any friends, but after the pandemic, I started hosting Canine Companion for Independence puppy play groups and parties! I also had Michael Franti's stay-at-home concerts in the driveway. My neighbor Trish would invite some of her friends, and I would invite a couple of mine, and it was just so much fun.

Yesterday was my final follow-up with my plastic surgeon. He said everything looked good, and I could start getting up in my chair, but I had to sit straight up; no more leaning back even the slightest because that would make my sore not heal. It's always so comfortable to lay back a little, and I never thought that leaning back like that was terrible for my pressure sore; it makes sense how my doctor explained it, and I don't know why I didn't put it together sooner. Now that I don't have a job anymore, my job is to keep my body healthy and strong, something I always did halfway, but now that's my goal. There were a couple times when things just got worse, and I was just thinking," This is going to be the end of me, so I might as well just give up." Now, I will buckle down and save money, even enough to buy a house. I would love to get my place and have a caregiver or nurse Live with me. In truth, I would love to buy a place in Santa Cruz, but that will never happen, so I'm trying to have realistic goals.

I hired a new round of caregivers about three months ago; of course, in the interview and for the first week or so, they were always perfect and seemed to do everything without being reminded many times. In the past I always learn about some of my caregivers taking stuff, when somebody figures out that you have some money and you get packages from Amazon every day they figure out that they need it more than I do. It's heartbreaking. I tried to be generous with people who helped me, and sometimes it ended badly. I have such a hard time with confrontation and talking to people, and although I still can't after all these years, I see other people doing it, and I envy them. I now have the perfect crew, and I can't wait to organize my house, decluttered and spotless. I ended up with storage for all of my holiday decorations and one with stuff that I haven't been able to go through my house; my brother and my niece have been suggesting that I just sell everything and get rid of the storage payments, I finally decided to do it since my new place is so tiny and I'm trying to save money. My niece is selling everything for me, so I would only look at some things and decide not to do it.

Nine months ago, I got a chocolate lab puppy. I had always wanted one. The receptionist at the place where I went for wound care and the hyperbaric chamber had a litter of puppies and was giving them away. How could I resist? My family was a little upset with me, and at first, it was tough trying to keep her from chewing up everything and barking and whining all night. I met a dog trainer who worked with Dude, keeping him fit and groomed when I was stuck in bed with the pressure sore. She is the best! I named my puppy Kona after a visiting nurse's Service dog. The best thing about it is that Dude and Kona just adore each other, I tried to adopt a puppy a couple of times, but Dude wouldn't have anything to do with them, so they had to go. They are always playing and running in the yard with each other. Dude is like a puppy again!

The evening before Thanksgiving, Stanley and Janet came down and asked what I would think about moving; that was the best news I've heard in a long time! I couldn't believe that my family decided to put me in the basement where I didn't even have a bedroom at the bottom of a huge hill that I had to tackle whenever I wanted to go anywhere or come home. I started looking immediately! At first, we discussed getting another place like this, with their place upstairs and mine downstairs only, with at least two or three bedrooms for me. At first, I thought I could hold firm and get what I wanted; after all these years, I deserved it! I have a good friend I met in Santa Cruz about 10 years ago. She is a massage therapist and used to come by twice a week to give me a nice two-hour massage, and she was terrific! She's been talking about moving away from Santa Cruz to another state, so we've talked about possibly moving in together! If not, I'm confident I will find somebody else.