I’ve been doing my best to keep up with the weekly ‘It’s a String Thing’ challenge. Last week was the 278th challenge organized by Adele Bruno. The pattern she chose for us to work with was Ratoon, which was also to be used as the string (the guidelines) for working on the tile. Ratoon is a new to me pattern that was tricky for me to learn to draw – as patterns with loops and curves often are for me.
Difficulties aside, as soon as I saw it, I knew I was going to use colour in whatever it led me to create. I decided to work on a larger tan tile (4” x 4” or 10 cm x 10 cm), which presented so many options for colour combinations. This challenge also presented an opportunity to use fine line coloured pens and coloured pencils I hadn’t used in ages. I settled on a deep shade of red for the main pattern and added more shapes with a colour that reminded me of butterscotch.
I’m happy with the results; considering that Ratoon pushed me out of my comfort zone and I had to put quite a bit of thought into which other patterns to pair with it.
For anyone not familiar with Ratoon, it’s the pattern drawn with the red pen toward the center of the tile. The lines and dots in the center circle of my completed tile are not part of the basic pattern.
To see my completed tile for challenge 277 click here.
I’ve written often about the pain in my legs feeling like fire when it gets unbearably intense. Today the pain feels manageable, but I’m excited to share about another kind of fire. For the first time in my life – without anyone’s help – I successfully lit a fire in a wood fireplace. That may seem like no big deal for a person who lives in a house with a wood fireplace or anyone who goes camping regularly; but I’m a city girl who never goes camping and only ever has to flip a switch to light a gas fireplace.
I won’t lie, it took quite a few tries to get the kindling to stay lit until it became a fully crackling fire. When the flames finally started shooting, I felt a great sense of accomplishment.
No Fire In My Legs – December 2018
No Fire In My Legs – December 2018
Interestingly, I’m away from home and before leaving on my trip I was stressed about the very real possibility of experiencing a fiery pain flare up. Nevertheless, here I am today, after traveling thousands of miles and for the first time in a long time, the fire I’m feeling is exactly where it should be…
Last winter, I took a trip. As much as it was a trip to get away from the frigid cold in the middle of winter to enjoy some tropical sunshine, sandy beaches, and saltwater; it was also a trip to test how well I can handle long-distance travel by air with my ongoing health issues. Overall, I handled it fairly well, so I’m taking another trip.
Even though things went well last year, I’m still somewhat anxious about getting on a plane again. This flight will be eight hours long, which is double the length of the last one; and I will travel 5,700 kilometres (3,550 miles) and cross five time zones over the Atlantic Ocean. Until I land and adjust to the time difference, I don’t think I’ll be able to assess the extent to which I’m affected. During the flight I took last year, my pain wasn’t significantly aggravated, but sitting in an airplane seat for eight hours this time, while feeling intense pain might be different. Add to that the fact that I’ve always been a bit of a nervous flyer and I have to admit that I’m not really looking forward to getting up in the air again.
However, my anxiety doesn’t end with the thought of getting on the plane and sitting through an eight-hour flight. I’m also anxious because I’ll be so far away from home, my doctors, and everything else familiar. During this trip, I’ll be staying with friends I haven’t seen since my last trip across the pond about six years ago. Although my friends are aware that I’m ill, they haven’t seen how the pain and accompanying side effects affect my daily life. I’m already worried about how I’ll cope and how they might react if – or more likely when – I have a pain flare up while I’m staying with them.
I know I shouldn’t expend the energy worrying about “what ifs?” but it’s hard after living with constant pain for this long and knowing that a flare up is never far off. It’s also hard not to worry about how others will react when they see you for the first time struggling to walk or unable to move at all because of pain. It’s hard not to worry about how greatly affected I’ll be by jet lag, especially because I already have a lot of difficulty with sleep and I never sleep well on planes.
It’s hard not to worry about how I’ll cope traveling around a city where public transit is widely used, when I’ve avoided using public transit where I live since becoming ill: how will I handle the sudden stops and starts of the trains or not being able to find a free seat while traveling on one? It’s hard not to worry about how I’ll explain needing to rest for a few days after going out for just a few hours. There are a lot more things I’m worried I’ll have to deal with and explain, but I suppose I’ll cross those bridges when I get to them.
Nevertheless, before I even get to the other side of the pond, there are some things I did in preparation for last year’s trip that I will repeat for this one. The main thing I did last year that was extremely helpful was arranging assistance to get to and from the plane. When I get to the airport, the airline will arrange for someone to take me from the check in counter to the boarding gate by wheelchair and/or golf cart. Then when passengers start to board the plane, I will be among the first to board with assistance from the flight crew. When I arrive at my destination, the same process will happen again. There will be someone waiting for me with a wheelchair when I leave the plane who will help me through customs to the baggage carousel and they will also help me collect my suitcase. Doing this last year helped me conserve a lot of energy and probably went a long way to ensuring that I got off to a relatively good start on my trip.
Knowing that I will have this assistance at the airports goes a long way to help me maintain peace of mind. However, I’m still anxious about the laundry list of things that need to be done before I even get there…
My Small Surrenders 