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-Personal blog for Janika Banks.
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Friday, February 26, 2016

as I'm pinned down with arrows

pic clicks to Deadicated Fans
click --> for the Mining Dead server in Minecraft
I'm subbed to Stone City Blog, and one of the first things I see on my phone every morning is an emailed post written by someone in prison. This morning's was a great rap style poem called Raise The Bar. (This is NOT the same as the Raise the Bar Cypher or Tamar Braxton's thing. Way better.) This one was written by Jonathan Gordon, and he's also got a blog called From the Bottom of the Fish Bowl. Much respect.

I'm in occupational therapy now. The only difference is I'm now seeing specialists in arms/hands, and they ASTYM down to fingertips. What I am doing right now will determine if next move absolutely has to be surgeries. I guess they're finding out with people jumping into nerve compression surgeries too quickly that the compression cause isn't always addressed, so the surgeries wind up not helping that much. Right now we still don't know if my neck is partially causative, and still waiting on neurologist to talk to me about my MRI. I was told yesterday I'm one of the more complicated cases.

One question I was asked several times yesterday both on paper and directly was whether my pain was preventing me from sleeping well. Duh, right? But ~*yeah*~. So after a bunch of assessing, we barely had time for a light ASTYM from elbows to fingertips, and by light I mean I'm used to much more rigorous tooling, and was very surprised how easily I could drive and carry groceries afterward. And then last night? I. SLEPT. Less than ten little bitty minutes assessing and shredding the fascia in my hands and around my wrists and elbows, and I slept like a boss. Very much looking forward to what other improvements I may see up to the end of March.

This week being so hard in several ways, and once again, Minecraft being a godsend... Totally fumbled this bit but that opening scene is pretty cool.


Ok, this is the road I've been working on in multiplayer, eventually it's going to go across the water, too. I love cobblestone, lol.


As my friends (3 of us are claiming territories and created a boundaried town so visitors can't plunder us) were noticing I seem to have this *cough*LITTLE*cough* obsession with organizing all our chests, so they've dug out a basement, filled it with chests, and my passion is now being directly utilized. Any time I feel the need to super focus and bury myself for a few minutes in something useless but actually useful, I can go down in the basement and sort stuff to my heart's content. Several years as a lead in retail and a year executive cheffing in food, not to mention the glorious summer I had overnight run of a 4 story hospital as the only stat available in housekeeping, oh, and 2 years of hotel desking (I really am a natural born workaholic, I loooooove organizing),  you can imagine me disentangling incoming raw materials, cooking and smelting into refined goods, and repack for shipping off to other areas. I love minecraft. And then if I need a breath of fresh air, I can run around the mountains looking for sheep to shear and go on a few wild n crazy blitz hunts while I'm at it. I've also got this whole mining thing going in a couple of caves, and I'm paving a road from a mountain top out to the ocean bit by bit, so there is plenty to turn to when my day is plummeting.

In the meantime, jokes flying around my family about all the things I could have said on the webs. Scott agrees one response in particular would have been awesome, but yeah, it's a good thing I don't put snark first any more.

Anyway, you get the idea- aspie obsession needs a direction and application. Finding a safe place with safe people to do that is such a huge tension reliever, and so far I've not only been able to stay on track with the rest of my real life doing chores and making meals and keeping my bills and scheduling straight, but finding a new surge of energy and joy doing it. I seem to be doing more stuff in a 24 hour period than I was a month ago, which is a really good sign with depression.

I know it's been a drag watching me angst about being public and balancing real people on social medias (those have actually been my highest ranking posts). I can also tell some of you are a little miffed with my new static front page that forces you to actually click again before you can glance over what's new in my content. (Email subs and feed readers don't have this problem.) I know you guys like feeling anonymous, and I've apparently taught you well, because about 80% of you regulars now barely even show up on trackers (being logged into google hides you, didn't I say it? You're welcome), but the bot traffic still shows up just fine and only accounts for way less than 10% of incoming, so I know you're still out there. I don't know if the static 'about me' page will be a permanent thing, I'm not really liking it sitting in the way like a closed door. I may switch it on the top bar menu next week so it doesn't come up right away but shows up as available to click.

Still finishing out a very hard week. It doesn't matter how many years pass, the pain never fades when you lose a child in the family. Life goes on, of course, but even after 12 years we all went into a hush this week on cue, very automatic, and then sweetly came together and cried again, all alone in our houses, but together on the webs in a little private spot. There are just some things that can't be properly shared out loud. By direct association, I am part of a worldwide CF family and always will be. Every person whose life has been touched like this, whether it's CF or cancer or any other long term terminal situation- I know.

We are here to watch each other die. We are here to learn how to die well. We are here to learn the love that walks in the dark with others who can't escape it, and to lead the way for others who follow behind.

And that is my focus. #amwriting

This parody rewrite is pretty wrenching if you see it from the POV of a person going through medical stuff, and especially growing up with a terminal dx.

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