Another reason I started this blog was so that I could write down small acts of kindness that I've received.

I have worked at my job for over 3.5 years now, and I've gotten to know quite a few of our members. I know the majority by name, and a lot of times can guess what they want to do. A few months back I was talking with my manager and he mentioned that he's had quite a few members ask if I was doing okay. My response was, "Really? That's so embarrassing." Now, you have to remember that I don't want this thing I'm dealing with to be something that's noticeable, or affect my ability to do my job, but obviously there are some things that I just can't control, and there have been some things that have had to change. Plus, when you where gloves all the time, people really notice.

Anyway, I didn't really believe him when he told me that. There have only been a few members that come in that I've told there was something wrong with me. Most people will ask about the gloves and move on (which is fine, because I don't necessarily like talking about it to strangers, because I don't want to have to explain), but a few have asked me deeper questions, so I've told them. They're always sweet about it, and always ask me how I'm doing when they come in next.

Today, I had a gentleman come through the drive-thru that I know, so I greeted him by name. He told me what he wanted, and then asked, "Have you lost weight?" to which I responded, probably with a hefty sigh, "Yes, I have." His next question kind of took my by surprise, "Are you okay?" It kind of took me by surprise that he had that kind of concern for me. This man is always very nice when I see him, but I just didn't expect him to notice much about me. (Plus, he's a male...Men don't notice that stuff! ;). I proceeded to tell him that it was because of health issues, but that we're on our way back up. It just made me feel really good that there are people out there who are watching out for us, that we don't expect, that do care about us and are mindful.

It also got me thinking that we need to be the same. We need to be observant of those around us, whether we know them well, or are meeting them for the first time. Don't ever miss out on a prompting to ask someone if they're doing okay, or to write a note, or just do something kind.

I didn't believe what my boss told me, but apparently it's true. There are people out there who care.

I made it through the cold January-March, dealing with the Raynaud's, still just doing my thin. I was able to play rec league volleyball, even though I had to make sure to bandage up my sore fingers and make sure they were warm. Have you ever tried setting a ball with cold fingers? It's a bit painful. But it was fun, and it got my out moving. In April I decided that I wanted to get in shape. I had gained a few pounds, and even though I participated in a "Biggest Loser" challenge in a digi scrap forum, I needed something to get me out and get me moving. I slacked off a bit after the last BL challenge, so I needed to get back to it.

I found a semi-easy schedule to follow, and decided to just jump in. My hands actually did okay as I would run. They were super cold to the touch, but I think moving got enough blood flowing to them that they didn't turn the purpleish, however they would get super swollen, but it was okay. I was out running, working out to get into shape. I actually was doing really well. I could comfortably run 5 miles. I was mighty proud of myself. I was feeling good. I signed up for the Top of Utah Half Marathon, and was excited to have something to look forward to.

I wasn't very far into my schedule when I started feeling pain in my side, right around my armpit up to my shoulder (Sorry, I don't know the correct medical terms. Maybe I should draw stick figures and highlight the parts that I'm talking about. LOL) It felt like I pulled a muscle, which I thought was what it probably was, because I stretch and reach a lot at work. It didn't affect my running, so I just kept at it.

I was incredibly sore for the first weeks, which is completely normal when you don't work out forever then decide to. and I'll admit that I'm terrible when it comes to stretching. I hated doing it when I was in HS, and I still do. My sister-in-law Shaina was actually doing the training with (but not actually WITH) me, but we decided to do our 6-miler together. She kicked my butt, but kept me going, so I was happy with a 60-minute 6-miler. But afterwards, good heavens, my calves were burning. They just felt super cramped. and it really hurt to walk. Luckily I noticed I could run it off. Sure it was sore for the first little bit, but once I got going, I was fine.

I skipped my 7-miler the next week due to laziness, the day off of work, and a holiday weekend (Memorial Day), and decided to just go to my 8-miler the next week. I had my route all worked out which took me up on campus, down to first dam, back up to campus, then back home. Well, I got to campus from first dam when I get this horrible pain in my knee. I have never felt a pain so bad in my life. I thought maybe it was one of those that I could just run off. But oh my goodness no. It was not possible. I decided after that Saturday to slow it down, and not do as much. I tried stretching and yoga. I tried running over the next few weeks, and I started getting pains in my shins. Like horrible shooting pains. It wasn't like a constant thing, or something that happened when I stepped a certain way or anything. I couldn't figure out what was causing it that, or if there was a way to prevent it from happening. Needless to say, after a few weeks, I decided to stop training. It was hard. I REALLY wanted to do this, but I just physically couldn't.

The shooting pains continued throughout the rest of the summer. It would be in my shins one day, then in my knees another, then up in my biceps another, then my hips. I just couldn't figure it out. Like I said, it was never constant, but when it would happen, it would take my breath away it was so bad. Nothing hurt to the touch, so it's not like I could try to massage anything. I didn't know what it was. When I'd get them in my arms, it was like I could lift them to a certain point, and then they were just stuck. If I tried to go further the shooting pain would just kill. It was NOT fun. I dealt with this all summer, and into fall.

My joints started getting achy, my hands were still completely swollen, and I was starting to have a hard time gripping things. My stomach was also starting to hurt. I had pretty bad acid reflux, which I''ve never had before. It was hard to want to eat. Food started tasting bad to me, and I just didn't want to eat food.

Around this time, my friends Camille and Brittney asked me to play on their rec volleyball team. I didn't want to say no, so I told them I would. It actually felt good to kind of run around, and fun to get on the court again...until I tried to serve overhand and couldn't. The pain was definitely there, and I just didn't have much strength. I also had a bit of a hard time moving forward fast, but I did it. The girls were totally understanding, but it was kind of rough to realize that maybe this was something that wasn't going to go away. For the 6-7 months prior, I just kept thinking that it was going to just go away. It was hard knowing that it wasn't. Greg & I didn't have insurance at the time, so we just kind of dealt with it.

As I mentioned, my stomach started hurting a bit, which made me not want to eat. I also decided to go off of birth control, wondering if that was causing some random weird effects, and during that volleyball season, I lost about 15 pounds. I didn't know what to do. Food was gross to me, and I just hurt. I didn't want to tell people, and didn't want to answer questions, because I never knew what to tell people. I didn't know what was going on, I didn't know what to tell them. I just knew that I had to stick it out, again believing that it would all just eventually go away.

It was an interesting 2012 to say the least.

In December of 2011, I noticed that if my hands got really cold, they would turn white, and go numb. It just started in my middle fingers, and progressively got worse. I just thought it was really strange, but didn’t think anything of it. I'd just wear gloves and try to keep them warm.

In January of 2012, they started turning a purpleish/blackish color when they got too cold, and they were really hard to warm up again. It kind of freaked me out, and one day at work I showed my co-workers. They kind of freaked out, so that kind of freaked me out. I ended up going to Instacare, where I learned that it was really expensive to go there. I kind of teared up when she told me how much it cost, and I guess she though I was crying because of my fingers. Needless to say those few tears got me in a bit quicker. The nurse came in and did all the basics, and then I waited for a bit longer. Of course by the time the doctor got in there, I had warmed up a bit so they weren't as black as they normally are. After looking me over and hearing my symptoms, the doctor told me it was most likely Raynaud’s. What is Raynaud's? Well, if you don't want to click on that link, it is:  "a rare disorder of the blood vessels, usually in the fingers and toes. It causes the blood vessels to narrow when you are cold or feeling stressed. When this happens, blood can't get to the surface of the skin and the affected areas turn white and blue. When the blood flow returns, the skin turns red and throbs or tingles. In severe cases, loss of blood flow can cause sores or tissue death."

Now I had done some research on my symptoms before, and that is what I had come up with, so I wasn't too surprised by the answer. There isn’t anything they can do to test for it, but based on the symptoms, that’s what they said it was. They did also run some blood tests to rule out some other things (which I so wish I could remember what they were. When I come out of a doctor's appointment, I have a REALLY hard time remembering what they told me. Haha!). Those came back normal. So, I was basically told to keep my hands warm. I was a little frustrated with this guy because he acted like it wasn't a big deal (which I realize it really isn't, but it wasn't cool at the time), but even when I asked him when I should become concerned with it, like how long I should let my fingers stay numb if I'm unable to get them warm, and he said, "Well, it's not like you're going to lose a finger or anything." Right. Can you see why I wasn't happy?

(This isn't my picture, but this is the least gruesome photo I could find, and pretty accurate to what my fingers would look like)

So I just went on, wearing gloves as much as possible, dealing with the constant question of, "Are you really that cold?" which totally shouldn't bug me, but really, why else would I be wearing gloves, and trying to keep my hands warm. It wasn't too long after that appointment when I started developing ulcers on my fingers. I developed a really bad one on the middle finger on my right hand, on the edge of my finger, where the nail meets the finger. It started out being sore to the touch, and then it would look like there was puss under the skin, so I would try to squeeze it out. It was incredibly painful, and it was even worse when it got cold. I wish I could put into words what they're like, but it's kind of gross, and probably unnecessary. Ha! They also take forever to heal. I think that first one took more than 2 months to completely heal, and even after, the finger was never the same. It was still a bit tender to the touch. Even without the ulcers, my finger tips were super sensitive. I had to be super careful digging through my purse because if I hit my fingers just right, it would hurt like crazy. It is a rough thing. still get really cautious when I feel like a sore is coming on. If it's something I can squeeze the puss out of fairly early, they aren't as bad, but there isn't anything I can do to prevent them, other than keep my hands warm, which is kind of hard to do.

Even now, two years later, Raynaud's still really affects me, but honestly, had I known what was in store for me next, I wouldn't have complained so much about it. ;)

I’ve been debating for a while whether I wanted to blog about this, but after reading some other blogs about people going through the same things as me, I decided that blogging about my experiences could be beneficial in one or all of the following ways:

A: It provides a bit of personal therapy.
B: To possibly help someone else struggling with this same thing.
C: To get my family & friends off my back (kidding…but only kind of.)

I don’t really like talking about myself, or about how I’m feeling, so I can get kind of frustrated by the constant questions. It doesn’t mean that I don’t appreciate them, because I really do appreciate the concern. I just don’t like showing vulnerability. I want to come across as this strong, somewhat independent woman, even though deep down I’m not. You just don’t need to know that. Hopefully by creating this blog I can convey my feelings and emotions in a more thought out way, and more in depth way than I could by a text or phone call. Plus, you don’t get to see me cry because my emotions are super out of wack. It’s a win-win.

Because I’m still at the stage where I don’t really understand what’s going on with me, please understand why I’m so hesitant to answer questions or phone calls. I don’t know how to explain things, and I don’t do well under pressure. I’m using this as a way for me to get my thoughts, emotions, experiences, etc. in order so that you can really understand what I’m going through. It’s not my intent to offend or make people feel like I don’t appreciate their concern for me. I really do. This blog is also not intended to make people feel sorry for me. If you do, thanks, but you don’t need to. I really am a little bit tough. I can take a punch.

You also have to understand that I am not doing this alone, which is a reason I feel like I don’t need help. I have a husband who has been the biggest support and help to me. He’s the one I need to be that crutch for me. That’s what makes a marriage, being willing to “bear one another’s burdens.”  We’re in this together, and we will be forever. It’s not like I’m going through this alone. We aren’t going through this alone. We’ve felt the support of much fasting and many prayers, and we know that the Lord is helping us through this. For reasons I don’t understand, this is a trial I have to go through. I don’t know what for, maybe to humble me. Actually it’s most likely for that reason, but I’m doing it, and I’m not alone.

A question I get asked a lot is, “What can I/we do for you.” Honestly, unless you can get be a new body or a Lamborghini, I really don’t need anything. As I’ve thought about this for the past few months, I’ve decided there is something you can do for me. I want you to go out and serve someone. I don’t care if it’s a big act of service, or something little (sending a note to someone). But go out and do something good for someone other than yourself, other than your family. It can be a complete stranger, just do a RAK (random act of kindness). Then let me know via email, text, letter etc. what it was that you did. I'm so serious about this. I want to know how you served. Even if you didn't do it with me in mind, service makes me happy. So let me know. Okay? Deal? Deal!

Also, don’t be offended if I don't want to talk about it. This isn’t about you right now, it’s about me.

Alright, now that we’ve got that all out of the way, let’s dig in... (I'll update in bits and pieces until I get caught up)