Bassinger Family Pledge Fundraiser

As an educator for over 20 years, I have had well over 2,000 students come into my life, and with those students are also their parents and families.  I have heard more stories about siblings, parents, pets, family vacations, and details of day-to-day lives than I can begin to count, and this is the beauty of working with kids.  And though every single one of my kids have been special in their own unique way, sometimes a certain student comes along that just tucks themselves a little deeper into my heart, tugs a little more at my heartstrings, becomes an extended part of my family.  

And that is exactly what happened when this sweet, timid little 6th grade boy named Zach Bassinger entered my classroom way back in 2016.  He was so shy and nervous those first few days, but he soon got very comfortable, and that orneriness that makes Zach the Zach that he is came out.  And I just couldn't help it; I adored him from the start.  Zach was assigned to my homeroom, which meant I had him in class all 3 years he attended Middle School.  When he got into any kind of trouble, he knew when I showed up in the doorway of whatever classroom he was in, he was going to hear about it.  He often came to my classroom to work, and we had one of those bonds that carried on through the years and extended to his family as well.  

I did not have his sister, Allie, in class, but I often saw her around the building.  She was a mother hen to Zach, being only a grade behind him.  She kept an eye on him, and she took it upon herself to keep him in line.  There was more than one occasion that she and I shared a knowing look!  

A few years later, along came his brother Carter.  Carter knew what he was in for before he ever entered my classroom; he knew I had connections, and that he had better watch his P's and Q's because I was well-acquainted with his parents already, and I made sure to tease him about that fact often!

Zach's parents were the kind of parents every teacher loves to meet.  They were attentive and supportive.  They came to every Open House and every Parent-Teacher Conference.  They responded promptly to emails and phone calls, and they worked as a team with teachers in order to help their kids have the absolute best education they could.  They were the kind of parents you were excited to see walk into your classroom.  

This is why, when I learned that Zach's dad, Terry, was diagnosed with thyroid cancer, my heart was instantly broken for them.  No one deserves that diagnosis, but this family, Zach's family, who were such good, loving, hard-working people, absolutely did not deserve to face this battle.  And a battle it has been, spanning over the last year and a half, with additional complications all along the way, taking the family's life on the kind of roller coaster no one wants to be on.  

And then it got even worse.  Just this month, Zach's sister Allie was also diagnosed with thyroid cancer.  The devastation this kind of news brings is something beyond words.  Allie is a senior in high school.  This should be the most exciting, fun time in her life.  Instead, she is going to be battling cancer, taking on the fight of her life.  

There is a GoFundMe set up for the family, and people have been so generous.  However, with both Terry and Allie now fighting this battle, the bills will continue to pile up, and the last thing the Bassingers need to worry about during a time when they need to focus on other things is the financial burden this puts on them.  

In honor of the Bassinger Family, I have decided to make a Pledge to donate $1.00 for every "hit" on this blog post between today and my birthday, September 16th, up to $500.  Please share the Bassingers' story, donate if you can, and encourage others to do the same.  I promise you, this family deserves anything we can do for them.  No amount is too small; they will appreciate any gesture you are able to make.  If you are a praying person, please offer those up for them as well, because they need all the support possible.  

Here is the link the GoFundMe set up for the family:

https://www.gofundme.com/f/supporting-terry-angie-bassinger

Thank you all!

This One is Real and Raw and Not for the Faint of Heart

I hesitated about sharing this blog post because it's painfully personal, humiliating, and vulnerable...But, the purpose of this blog is to share my life, to reflect, to relate to others who may be going through similar situations, to be my true self, and to show that through my writing.  So here it is...

It's Monday morning as I reflect back over the weekend.  It was a bad day Saturday, a REALLY bad day Saturday.

My husband's extended family had a family reunion at a nearby recreation area, and my daughter really wanted to go, to meet family she hadn't met, to see some of her aunts and uncles.  My stepson, his wife, who is a very close friend to me, and their 4 kids were also going.  It sounded like such a nice time, just spending the day together, seeing the kids and catching up; however, we all knew I couldn't go.  

First off would be the 20 minute car ride, which meant my edema would kick into overdrive.  There was no way I'd be able to walk any distance to the picnic area, so we'd need my wheelchair.  But, having never been there other than driving by, we weren't sure what the situation was as far as surfaces for a wheel chair to roll easily across to get around the parking lot and picnic area.  Then there was the restroom situation.  Having lymphedema means lots and lots of fluid throughout my body, which means daily diuretics, which then means many, many trips to the bathroom, which are urgent and often without warning.  The website stated "primitive restrooms" which sounded a bit concerning, and where these were located and how accessible they would be, we didn't know.  What we did know was that I am unable to walk more than 50 feet without being winded and needing to take a seated break before my legs give out.  

So, with lots of tears Saturday morning, as I grieved yet another thing I was unable to do with my family because of Long Covid, I texted with my daughter-in-law as we discussed what we should plan on our families taking along as far as potluck items, folding chairs, etc.  The tears continued as I helped my husband and daughter get things organized to take with them, and wished them safe travels, to send my best to the family, and to have a great time.

Once they left, I decided to tackle the job of tidying up and organizing my kitchen because this is something important to me, and something I knew would bring me some peace and a sense of accomplishment.  So, using the kitchen stool we purchased to assist me with being able to sit at a workable height, I loaded and started the dishwasher, put away some random grocery items still on the counter, cleaned out the refrigerator and organized it more neatly, and restocked the Kcups in our coffee area.  

While doing all this, I also decided to make me a small pot of alfredo pasta using packaged, instant noodles, a simple white sauce with garlic and cheese, and canned chicken breast.  It would be quick, easy, and could be simmering away in a small saucepan while I worked in the kitchen.  It had been determined over a year ago that I should not use the stove without supervision, but I didn't feel that I had really been needing direct supervision when cooking over the last few weeks.  My husband was always there, nearby, often helping me, being my "sous chef" as I cooked.  However, before my little saucepan of pasta was finally finished, and I could contentedly have a seat to enjoy my lunch along with a sense of accomplishment for all I had gotten done, I ended up with a burn on my arm from laying it on top of the hot saucepan lid I'd forgotten about.  I'd just set it down on the edge of the sink not 10 seconds earlier, but somehow forgot.  Burning my arm caused me to jerk abruptly, flinging pasta and sauce across the stove, onto the backsplash behind the sink, and down the front of myself.  So, I had one more mess to clean up, along with an arm to run under cold water, before ever sitting down to put my feet up, and eat.  This was my reminder as to why I wasn't supposed to use the stove when I was home alone...By the time I'd finished all that, my husband and daughter were pulling up, back home and ready to tell me all about the reunion.  

The evening was relatively calm as we watched a movie, had some leftovers for dinner, and relaxed after a long day.  Then it was time to get ready for bed.

I have been noticing some issues with swallowing lately, having this feeling as though my throat is constricted, so I began doing a little research on possible causes right before heading to the bathroom to do my nightly routine.  Multi-tasking is something I completely lost the ability to do when Long Covid set in, and has been a constant challenge for me over the past 20 months.  My mind was on what I'd been reading, and I was thinking about what the cause of my issues could be as I entered the bathroom and closed the door.  The next thing I realized was that I hadn't lifted the toilet seat before sitting down because my mind had been elsewhere, still going over possible explanations for my strange swallowing issue.  It was too late to correct my mistake.  (Remember my comment above about diuretics, urgency, little warning....?) 

The next 30 minutes consisted of me sobbing hysterically, a mess all around me, and my husband and daughter both taking turns trying to talk to me through the bathroom door, but me too distraught to form words they could even understand.  When I finally let my husband in, he immediately told me to just take a nice, long bath while he cleaned up and took care of things.  When he'd finished up, he headed to bed, leaving me to soak in the tub and regroup.

After an hour of soaking in a warm bubble bath, I had calmed down a bit from my humiliating mishap, and began to stand up when I had the most excruciating charley horse attack my upper left calf.  It was so painful I couldn't even reach for my cell phone to text my husband for help.  I was literally frozen in agony for a solid minute, trying as hard as I could to push my foot flat against the bathtub to relieve the pain, before I could even move.  When I could finally feel a little bit of release, I texted my husband, and he came in, massaged my calf enough for me to be able to move my leg without the muscle balling back up again.  This is just one more symptom of lots of diuretics, even with many, many potassium supplements taken throughout the day...

That charley horse showed back up, thankfully in less aggressive fashion, twice more before I was able to climb into bed and put a fork in one seriously awful day of Long Covid rearing it's ugly head at me.  But, I made it through it, and luckily, yesterday was a bit better than the day before...I can only hope maybe today will be even better yet...

Let's Talk Accommodations

"The Americans with Disabilities Act (ADA) became law in 1990. The ADA is a civil rights law that prohibits discrimination against individuals with disabilities in all areas of public life, including jobs, schools, transportation, and all public and private places that are open to the general public. The purpose of the law is to make sure that people with disabilities have the same rights and opportunities as everyone else."  (Copyright 2017 ADA National Network. All Rights Reserved)

I think it's safe to say that most people know there are requirements for fair and equal opportunities and rights for people who have a visible disabling condition, and for the most part, I have witnessed good intentions, appropriate accommodations made, and compassion shown.  However, there are many, many "invisible" disabilities, and I don't feel those dealing with them are always aware of their rights, nor are those around them as understanding or even willing to acknowledge them.  

Depression and other mental health diseases are covered by the ADA.  Bladder and bowel problems,  neurological disorders, endocrine and circulatory problems...the list goes on and on.  These are things I feel everyone should be aware of.  No one is going to advocate for us; we need to be our own advocates and learn how to ask for what we need without shame or embarrassment or fear of judgment or criticism.  This is advice I need to take as well, but it's much easier for me to advocate for others than for myself.   I admit that wholeheartedly.

When my daughter decided on a college, decided to live on campus, and began the process of enrolling, her biggest stressor was the idea of having a complete stranger for a roommate.  I couldn't blame her; I would not have been comfortable with that either.  However, I didn't say that to her; I reminded her of all the stories about people meeting their lifelong best friends when they became college roommates, about her aunt having longtime friends who had started out as strangers she'd met at college, etc.  But, in my head, I was still feeling a lot of empathy for her because I knew I'd have those same concerns, and her feelings were valid.  Then I learned that social anxiety, if diagnosed and being treated for this condition, was a covered disability under the ADA.  Because of this, with nothing more needed than a couple of forms filled out by both her and her therapist, she was able to qualify for a single-occupant room with single-room fees waived through her rights under the ADA.  Though she didn't like the idea of "special treatment" and didn't want to be labeled as "disabled", I explained to her that she should not feel that way, that this was her right, and that she deserved to be able to feel good about her upcoming college experience.  If something was causing her so much stress that it was impacting her feelings about attending college, that absolutely was something within her rights to address.  If even one parent or one student reads this and learns about their rights regarding anxiety and/or depression, and realizes their feelings are valid and deserve to be addressed, then I have done my job with this blog.  

Advocate for yourselves, advocate for each other, and have each other's backs out there in the world, because at the end of the day, those are the things that really matter...

“Ada National Network.” ADA National Network | Information, Guidance and Training on the Americans with Disabilities Act, 22 Aug. 2023, adata.org/.

Purgatory: An Analogy

My husband, my daughter, and I went out of town to have a nice lunch together for my daughter's birthday.  We were listening to music, and "Hotel California" came on.  My daughter and I began having a discussion about what it was actually in reference to or what The Eagles intended it to be about.  There are many theories, but one of them is that Hotel California is a sort of purgatory.  We then got on the topic of what purgatory is and means.  I said purgatory in itself can be an analogy to so many things really.  Then it hit me, and I said, "That is how I feel; Long Covid is purgatory for me."

The Merriam-Webster dictionary gives the following definition:                          pur-ga-to-ry /pər gə tȯr ē/ noun a place or state of temporary suffering or misery

The belief in terms of religious references to purgatory is that purgatory includes both suffering and healing. However, some believe a minute in purgatory is a year in our time; some believe it is only a short stay until the prayers of loved ones release you from that state of abyss.

When people ask me how I am feeling, I usually give an answer such as "hanging in there" or "one day at a time" But, what feels like the most accurate answer would be, "I feel like I'm stuck in purgatory, and I have no idea what I need to do in order to be released from it. I'm not healing, not getting better. But, I'm not dead either. I'm stuck in this abyss of nothingness." I realized at that moment, as we listened to the song, that Long Covid feels like Purgatory to me. I finally have the perfect analogy for what these past 22 months have felt like.

I have been struggling lately. A lot. After a 71-hour streak without sleeping, I am now working with my healthcare team to help my brain to understand that it needs sleep. A prescription sleep aid is the newest addition to the plethora of pills and supplements I take each day, on a 5-alarm reminder schedule. It just seems that there is one problem after another, one new, quirky, bothersome symptom every couple of months. Sometimes I laugh; sometimes I cry. Sometimes, I do both.

"Last thing I remember, I was running for the door.  I had to find the passage back to the place I was before.  'Relax,'  said the night man, 'We are programmed to receive.  You can check out any time you like, but you can never leave.'"                ~ The Eagles

Works Cited:

“America’s Most Trusted Dictionary.” Merriam-Webster, www.merriam-webster.com/. Accessed 9 Aug. 2023.

"Hotel California."  Hotel California, Asylum Records, 1976.