Tag Archives: EDS

Blooming Where I’m Planted

tiffatvandyDo you see that girl? That’s me- four years ago. (Do you see my awesome collection of stuffed animals? Yeah, my husband specializes in fluffy gift giving.) Four years ago, I participated in an inpatient research study at Vanderbilt University Medical Center (Clinical Research Center) during the 4th of July. I knew that I would never be well enough to participate in cook outs or fireworks, so I spent 11 days in the hospital doing experimental treatment for autonomic disorders. I was new to my POTS (Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome) diagnosis and not yet diagnosed with EDS (Ehlers Danlos Syndrome). I was confused and angry. I had left my career as a middle/ high school Spanish teacher nine months prior to this picture. I had no clue who I was or where I was going. In my mind, I had lost my worth as a professional, wife, and friend. But, during the same hospital stay when this picture was taken, there was a faint bit of inspiration that flickered amidst my desperation. I have no idea where I got this phrase- but I’m not especially creative, so I probably read it or heard it on television. But, the phrase that echoed in my mind and heart was, “You have to bloom where you are planted.”

I, like so many others, did not choose to be planted in current circumstances. I did not study to become a sick person. I didn’t marry my husband with hopes of being his disabled wife. However, if we’re all being honest, there are few of us who have written our own way. Life has planted us in some less than ideal places, and we have to decide what to do with the situation. Don’t misinterpret what I’m saying. I’m not going to tell you that all you need to do is smile or have a good attitude. Not at all. There are days when life isn’t a greeting card. There are days when I cry and complain and whine and eat all the junk food. However, in spite of a difficult situation, I choose to bloom.

Yesterday marked four years since the first picture was taken. I can still remember the emotions and pain of that day. I can remember trying to force a smile for a picture- but feeling like the gifts I was posing with were little more than a sympathy offering- little more than flowers at a funeral. Yesterday, I took a new picture- at my first ever book signing. My symptoms hadn’t changed (Has anyone else blacked out when they heard a fire truck’s siren? That was new for me.), but my perspective had.

I’m not handling all this perfectly. I won’t ever be the great inspirational story of the person who overcomes adversity. However, I live my adversity; I accept it, but I also choose to laugh and smile and advocate in spite of it. I’m blooming exactly where I’m planted- even when I wish I could uproot and move to higher ground.

So, how did I get here? I didn’t wake up one day and decide I like chronic illness. I didn’t adopt my “Bloom where I’m planted” mantra and immediately become a blogger. Heck, I didn’t even start giving unforced smiles at that point. But, I started laughing. I started looking for the hilarity of my newfound life circumstances. I slowly changed my thinking from, “I can’t believe this is happening to me” to “You won’t believe what’s happening now!” Regaining my sense of humor and finding my voice, allowed me to bloom.

The past four years have been the most transformational of any I’ve experienced. I have hurt and endured more than I would have believed. However, I’ve become more understanding. I have increased my capacity to love. Ultimately, I’ve become a person I wanted to be- but that girl four years ago could have never believed possible.

I will never be grateful for illness. If I had the ability, I would heal us all in a heartbeat. However, I am grateful that my broken heartedness has healed. I am blooming. It’s not always pretty. (Heck, I’m probably more of a weed or a wildflower than a beautiful, manicured rose.) I am proud of the growth of the past four years, and I look forward to continuing to bloom with all of you.

Peace, love, and health, friends.

Being a Sick Perfectionist

This morning I stood in my bedroom for a full minute trying to wrap my head around the amount of laundry, luggage, and shoes that currently litters the floor. It’s not all mine, but a fair percentage certainly is. Things like this drive me bananas. I like to have everything in its place at all times, but there are times when I lack the energy to put it there.
I’m a perfectionist. Don’t misunderstand- I am ridiculously far from being perfect, but I always have a very clear picture in my mind of how things are supposed to be. When reality doesn’t match my desire, I get stressed. I’ve always been this way. When I was a kid, I wanted my books arranged on the shelf in size order. As an adult, I have very particular views about the direction the toilet paper must turn. (Time out here to say that I have 0 understanding of people who don’t even put the toilet paper on the roll- I’m looking at you, husband!)
Unfortunately, my body can’t always keep up with the demands of my brain, and I have had to let a few things go that I never would have dreamed I would. For example, my towel closet (I think I’m supposed to call it a ‘linen closet,’ but we just aren’t that fancy here.) is a mess. In the perfect world where I have plenty of energy, I would fold everything neatly. Towels would all face the same direction, and there would be a stack of white towels and a stack of multi-color towels. In reality, everything in that closet is clean, and that’s all I can promise. I’ve developed a few general rules to keep this perfectionist as calm as possible- and to keep me from threatening my husband with bodily harm. (See what I mean? The man is an animal. PS- This is NOT my bathroom; it’s his.)

tp
Decide whether the issue is truly a matter of right and wrong.
When you’re bothered by someone’s actions, it can sometimes feel like a personal attack. It typically isn’t. For example, Joe has a strange pile of assorted pajama/ lounge clothes in the corner next to his nightstand. That pile makes me crazy. I can’t conceive ever not folding clothes when I’m not wearing them. There is an illogical part of my brain that tells me sometimes, “He just does this as a passive aggressive attempt to irritate you.” You know what? That’s not the case. The pile of clothes just does not bother him, so he doesn’t think twice about it. If it’s really bothering me, I ask him to minimize the mess, and he has never failed to do so. There isn’t a rule that says “comfy clothes” must be folded when they’re not in use. No one is trying to personally wrong me by not following my imaginary rule. This is not a battle I’m willing to fight.

laundry

Ask for help- even if it doesn’t feel helpful.
My perfectionist tendencies tend to make me cringe when it comes to asking for help. Why? Because the person helping doesn’t do things “right.” Again, these are typically not matters of actual right and wrong- but more matters of how I want things done. I tend to go back and forth between saying, “Joe, will you help me with laundry?” and “Never mind, I’ll do it. I’m picky.” Now, occasionally my concerns have warrant- he has put my “Hang to dry” clothes in the dryer a couple times. But, typically, it’s stuff I can learn to deal with- like folding tshirts down the middle instead of in thirds, as I prefer. Do I really care if I walk around with a crease down the front of my shirt? Probably not.

Laugh at yourself.
Sometimes I have to step back from a situation and laugh at how uptight I’m being. I’ll even ask Joe, “Am I being a little crazy right now?” (He always answers that question way too quickly.) I can recognize how silly it is that I cleaned out a closet before we had friends over to watch the Super Bowl- even though there was absolutely no reason for our guests to look in our closets. I can even laugh at how ridiculous it is that I refuse help when I’m physically incapable of completing a task. That doesn’t make sense- at all.
Friends, if you lean toward being way too worried about insignificant things, the chronic illness life will be especially difficult for you. I’m learning to let some things go. I truly don’t care how things are put in the dishwasher, (Unless my Harry Potter cups are in the bottom- because they will melt, and I won’t be able to celebrate my Hufflepuff-ness daily.) My house will always be clean (or clean-ish), but it will never be spotless. There are probably a few pairs of shoes peeking out from under our bed right now. My kitchen counters probably have a few crumbs on them, and there’s a pile of laundry at the base of the stairs (that lead to the laundry room), because I lack the energy to actually carry clothes downstairs. In spite of all this, I’m sitting on the back porch and typing at the computer without hyperventilating. If I’m learning to deal with this perfectly imperfect life, so can you.

Peace, love, and health.

I’m Pretty Sure You Want This Book.

This (link at the bottom) is my book. Okay, technically, it’s Joe’s book too, because he did a lot of work on it. But since I’m the person with the chronic illness and this is a book about chronic illness- well, I’m a little emotionally attached. Just in case you’re thinking you don’t need this book or don’t especially want it, humor me while I make my case.

So, here are the “Crazy, Chronic Reasons Why You (might) Want to Read This Book.”

  1. It’s a beautiful love story. Okay, it’s not exactly a beautiful love story. As a matter of fact, I mention bodily functions that are neither beautiful nor lovely a couple times. However, Joe and I wrote this together. He literally saw my desire to write a book and not only encouraged it- he did a lot of the work. We talked through every chapter together before I wrote it. He physically typed a lot of the book, because my crazy, dislocating hands wouldn’t allow me. We have called ourselves #TeamEarly from the beginning, and this collaboration showcases exactly why. We work together. We laugh together- and, when necessary, we cry together. So, while a book instructing you with how to cope with very public and very projectile vomit isn’t exactly romantic, the love and cooperation that went into each page certainly is.
  2. It’s likely to boost your confidence. Do you want to know why it will boost your confidence? Because as you read through this book and experience our raw honesty, there will be times when you’ll think, “I would never be dumb enough to get myself in that situation.” See? You’ll feel smarter. Okay, seriously, this book talks about embarrassing symptoms that so many of us face- brain fog, incontinence, mobility struggles, etc. Let’s be honest- I’m about as graceful as an elephant changing underpants. I have a long history of blunders to share. I will give you tips to saving face as much as possible when your body decides to be a jerk in the least convenient of places. Personally, I always feel more confident when I have a contingency plan.
  3. People seem to actually like the book. You guys, I have reviews, and they’re not bad. They’re actually, well, great! Even more impressively, to the best of my knowledge I am not related (by blood nor marriage) to anyone who has reviewed my book. You never know when you write something if it will reach your audience in the way you hope. There’s a chance that Joe and I have been drafting and typing our little hearts out on a project that stinks. But . . . it’s beginning to look like it doesn’t. I actually believe we may have accurately portrayed this life in a way that others can relate.
  4. It will make you cool. Okay, there are many words that could describe me, and “cool” will never be one of them. I will never listen to the right music or understand pop culture references. However, illness has made me more sensitive to the needs of my chronically ill/ disabled friends. We have done our best to convey to significant others, caregivers, friends, congregations, and ‘that lady from WalMart’ how to be aware of the needs of others. And, seriously, what’s cooler than compassion? Am I right?
  5. I will appreciate your support forever. Everyone isn’t in a place where they can buy a book. I understand that completely. Please know that every word of encouragement, like, and share mean the world to me. My Crazy, Chronic Life blog audience was the driving force behind this book, and your love and encouragement help me keep my head above water on the hardest days.

Friends, each of you have encouraged Joe and I throughout this process, and we truly appreciate it. (I considered telling everyone that to show our gratitude Joe would be available to sing at the wedding of anyone who buys our book. Strangely, he didn’t consent to that.) So, one more time for the people in the back- my book link is below. Try an excerpt. See if it’s for you- or if it might help someone you know.

Peace, love, and health to each of you.

We’re Going to Disney World- and I have to take EDS with me.

Y’all, I’m going back to Disney World in a few days, and I am beyond excited. Okay, at this exact moment, I’m beyond stressed. I hate packing. I hate preparing to leave. I’ll sum it up like this- Tonight’s dinner came from Dollar Tree, because I was too tired to walk through the grocery store. (I bought frozen vegetables. I feel like I deserve a medal for not deciding tonight’s dinner would be peach rings and circus peanuts.) I’m trying to rest, so I’ll feel decent once we get to Disney. But, seriously, who has time to rest when they’re preparing for a trip?

I’m going to let all of you in on a secret. Last year’s Disney trip wasn’t exactly stellar. Don’t get me wrong; Joe and I had a great time. But I sort of fell apart. My neck developed new pain (I didn’t think that was possible) so severe that I actually lost vision in one eye for a while. That whole situation never fully resolved. (Although, both eyes work again, thankfully.) I missed an entire day of fun, because I couldn’t keep food down. I’m guessing my problem was a combination of dehydration and pain, but I’m not entirely sure. The skin on my forearms literally fell off, because EDS skin and vinyl arm rests on wheelchairs (with the addition of 100 degree Florida heat) are apparently opposed to one another. In short, I was a mess.

In order to go back to the Most Magical Place On Earth, I’ve had to make a few changes. And since a lot of my blog readers are also living the chronic life, I thought I’d share my changes in hopes they’ll help someone else enjoy their vacation with relatively few medical meltdowns.

I’m leaving Snookie at home.

If you’re new to the blog, you might be wondering why I’m leaving my (very unfortunately named) child at home. Snookie is my wheelchair, and she’s basically been my bestie for the past three years. BUT, I’ve outgrown her in terms of needs. (Yes, I can still fit myself into Snooks.) Snookie, though fabulous, is a very bumpy ride, and Disney World tends to have rough pavement anyway. My neck and back are no longer well-suited for the bumpiness of a manual wheelchair. (I’m sure Joe’s back is duly grateful.)

Instead, I’m renting a scooter for the first time. I ran across an amazing company called “Disney World Scooter Rental” that will deliver a scooter to my hotel and provide on-site user training (Yikes! You can expect to see a video of that hot mess.). I came across DWSR when I saw a post they had made defending their clients who need to use mobility devices in the park. They were responding to a comment on their site about how those with disabilities should just stay home. (People are jerks sometimes, am I right?) Anyway, DWSR replied to the comment in defense of all of us who deserve to enjoy their vacation just as much as our able-bodied counterparts. I instantly fell in love with the company, and I am excited to try their services. They’ve already been awesome at answering my questions when I needed to find a scooter model to rent that wasn’t difficult on my upper body to maneuver. (The scooters that require you to push a button with your thumb to accelerate cause my thumbs to dislocate.) I’ll leave a full review after the trip, but I’m expecting this to be a great experience.

For those of you wondering, the new wheelchair will be named after another super obnoxious reality star- Abby Lee. (Although, I think the real AL is serving time in prison now, so maybe I should name her Free Abby Lee instead.)

Amazon Prime delivers to Disney.

I love Amazon Prime. I mean, it’s shameful how much stuff I purchase via Prime. I have no clue why this hasn’t occurred to me sooner, but I can order stuff through Prime to be sent to my hotel! Why is this so exciting? Last year, I struggled with hydration. Yes, you can get free water at any counter service restaurant in the parks. However, my body isn’t patient enough to wait until I get up, get ready, wait in line for the bus and security, and actually get into the park before I start hydrating. Not to mention that water isn’t exactly the gold standard for hydration when you’re medically complicated. (Electrolytes are important, kids.) My problem last year was that I would tell Joe, “No, I’m fine. I can finish my water bottle from last night rather than buy a Gatorade for $4 before we leave the hotel.” Then, I would get to the park and already be dehydrated, tachycardic, and nauseous from the Florida heat before we started our day.

This year, I’ve ordered water, Gatorade, and breakfast bars for our hotel room. I contacted Disney to make sure this is okay, and they sent me the address (and a warning that I might have to pay a $5 handling fee- basically the cost of 1 gatorade).

For those of you keeping score, that means I’ve found an affordable solution to my Disney related hydration issues as well.

Hot/ Cold packs- duh.

I am nothing without my heating pad and ice packs. I have no clue why it didn’t occur to me to take them with me on vacation. Last year, I was trying to “ice” my head and neck with the condensation on my Disney mug. Not exactly helpful. This year, I’ve bought a few hot/ cold packs (that can be frozen or microwave) to take with me. I don’t plan to take them with me into the parks- although that could happen. My plan is to use them in the evening when I’m trying to melt off some of the pain of the day. Again, I’m not sure why I didn’t think of this sooner.

I’ve addressed mobility, hydration, and pain management issues from last year. It’s not a perfect plan, because the reality of vacation with a chronic illness is that anything can happen. However, I’m learning every year. Joe and I love Disney World, and I don’t plan to give up our trips without one heck of a fight. If you want to join us on our trip, make sure you like my blogger page- CrazyChronicLife We plan to do some live videos of the things we see and do at WDW. I’ll upload pictures, videos, and live events to the page.

Also, it’s a little early to be spilling these particular beans, but Joe and I are planning to release our co-authored chronic illness guidebook as soon as we return from Disney World. I’ll give more details as we get closer to the release date, so, for now, just join us for vacationing fun.

Peace. Love. Health.
And, oh yeah, Mouse Ears.

“How are you?” and other tough questions

Joe and I had a conversation about how others perceive my illness the other day. It wasn’t a confrontational conversation- it was more the random musings that happen when you’re waiting for dinner to come out of the oven. Joe mentioned that a mutual friend had once said to him (not an exact quote), “I understand Tiffany’s illness, and I think people believe she’s sick. It’s just hard for them to understand when they see her out and she’s smiling and bubbly.”

Hmm. Okay, I’m typically the great empathizer, so I can try to understand what others see. I can understand to a degree that it’s difficult for people to see a 30 something with a loud voice and ridiculous laugh- and reconcile that with the stories they’ve heard about me being ill. I suppose I can understand how it’s all confusing.

But, geez Louise, people! How on earth am I supposed to act? If I’m in public, I try to act like I belong in public. I don’t leave the house if there’s no chance of me staying conscious. When people ask how I’m doing, I say, “Fine” or “The best I can” and I smile. That seems normal, and that’s how I’ve chosen to handle my illness. If I know that I have an event to attend (even if it’s a seemingly ‘no big deal’ event like dinner with friends or an evening basketball game), I prepare the entire day beforehand, so I will seem “fine.” I rest more than normal. I don’t lift anything or do any exercise, so I can protect my joints. I eat foods that aren’t likely to make me sick. There’s a lot of work that goes into appearing “fine.”

The problem with so many people who live in my world of chronic illness is that we never fake being ill- but we’re masters at faking being well. It makes people uncomfortable if I’m honest about how I’m feeling. Think about it. If you say, “Hi, Tiffany. How are you today?” and I reply, “I feel horrible. I just popped in a dislocated elbow, and I’m really nauseous now” then the conversation is awkward for everyone. You suddenly feel like you have to offer me some sort of comfort (You don’t.). I feel awkward, because you’re pitying me. It’s just more difficulty than I want to add into running my errands or joining my husband at a football game.

An acquaintance recently asked if I’m “doing better now.” Well, that’s complicated. In that exact moment, I had been running errands for a bit. I was drenched in sweat and shaky. In that moment, the answer was “no.” In life in general, I have a chronic condition. There will always be good days and bad days. There will more than likely never be a time of being better or worse, because symptoms seem to come in unpredictable waves- the kind of waves that sweep you off your feet and make you eat sand and get salt in your eyes. However, the best response I could give this person- who had all the best intentions- was to say, “I’m trying my best to do better.” Cue the smiling and awkward giggling.

So, for the sake of everyone’s sanity, I’m going to keep giving oversimplified answers to difficult questions. Please, don’t misunderstand. I appreciate that people include me in small talk. I choose to keep my answers simple- even if they don’t accurately describe my current condition. I don’t feel like I’m lying- I’m shielding people from an uncomfortable truth. We all do it to an extent.

To the people who don’t feel like I act “sick enough,” I have no apologies. I’m doing my best to handle this life- same as you. I’m open to questions, because I understand that my reality is quite different from that of my peers. Let me share with you about my world. There are needs and concerns that exist for my chronic illness friends that others our age have never considered. I don’t expect those who don’t live this life to understand. I don’t fault anyone for not understanding either. I’m simply asking for the benefit of the doubt. Trust me, with this body, I’m bound to prove to you that I’m sick if you watch for a bit.

Peace, love, and health, friends.

A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes . . . When You’re Falling Apart

Based on that title alone, I’m fairly confident Disney will never ask me to right lyrics for their next great princess anthem. That’s okay, because my heart is set on writing of a different sort entirely. Want to know a secret? I started dreaming of being an author when I was an awkward high school sophomore (who used to lock her bedroom door and play pretend in order to imagine how my newest story should transpire). But . . . dreams are scary. If I tell people and fail miserably, you’re exposed. Everyone knows that you tried and failed. That’s painful, and I’ve felt more than enough pain in my 31 years.

Why am I telling you this now? Because jumping out on a limb is scary enough- why not ask the blog world to watch?!? I have an e-book! I’m a sort of author. It’s on Kindle only, so I haven’t realized the dream of having a physical book to hold in my hands. It was compiled by Joe, because the sick life is complicated and his help is necessary. It’s not the exact dream I imagined, but at the same time I have a certain awareness that something I’ve wanted for a long time is finally happening.

When I became sick, I suffered the loss of so many dreams. I lost the dream of being a mother. (I’ve been naming my future children since I learned to spell.) I left my dream job as a middle school teacher. The life I intended to live slipped away. However, I’m learning that God in His infinite wisdom places new dreams in our hearts- or in my case, He rekindles old dreams that seemed unattainable. When I look at the series of events that led to this moment, I’m amazed.

I married an author– a legit author with 10 books at real, legitimate presses! (Don’t worry. I don’t even aspire to surpass him.) At the time we married, I thought it was cool and respected his accomplishments. I never dreamed that the most painful part of my life (the whole illness/ disability thing) would lead to me wanting to write again. I could have never fathomed that my super author husband (Is that his new super hero name? Super Author!) would encourage me to pursue this inkling of a dream. He’s the person who encourages me through my process (which includes a lot of procrastinating and Netflix) and gives me pep talks when I complain that I’ve sold exactly 2 books in 2 days. He believes in me, and he legitimately knows what he’s talking about (in regard to writing, Tennessee football, church history, and making baked potatoes- beyond that, his advice isn’t worth as much).
While I’m deep in the process of writing completely new material, I’ve released an e-book of my blogs as well as some new material. Why publish previously written blogs?
1. Blog readers have asked for an offline version of blogs to give as a gift to newly diagnosed friends. While this isn’t a hard copy, it’s easily purchasable and able to be sent to anyone with an e-reader or smart phone.
2. This gives me a practice run before my new material is ready for publishing. There have been some serious hiccups in this process, and I’m hoping to get those out of the way now- before my new material releases.
3. If sales go really well, I might be able to buy a Diet Coke at Disney World next year.
Ultimately, I’m new to this process and learning as I go. I’m touched and honored that anyone would purchase my writing. It’s an odd feeling to have someone purchase something that contains some of the rawest parts of your heart. So, thank you for reading my words. Thank you for sharing my heart. Thanks for letting me realize a new dream I never believed could happen.
Peace, love, and health, friends.

Sorry. This post wouldn’t be complete if I didn’t include a link to the book. Thanks for understanding my shameless self- promotion.

Preview my book HERE, please!

Awareness Months Matter

During Dysautonomia Awareness month, someone asked me how the awareness month helps me personally. This person wasn’t being snarky or belittling. He just wanted to know what the purpose is. I understand his line of thinking. Sharing a Facebook post will not make me feel better; wearing a tshirt that supports awareness will not pay my medical bills. When faced with the reality of a chronic condition, all the tshirts, Facebook statuses, and Instagram graphics in the world seem inadequate.

However, for many of my chronic illness friends (including myself), awareness is our hope and life line. We’re met daily with not only the challenges of our condition- but also the lack of understanding of others. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t believe the whole world has ganged up on me. Not at all, most people are quite lovely. However, due to the lack of understanding of my condition, I find myself in situations often where a little awareness would go a long way.

Awareness month matters to educate medical professionals.

Remember, Dr. Deficient? ( This guy ) I’m fairly confident that he reads online news, uses social media,  or has idle conversation with people while standing in line at the movies. Why? Because, even if he wasn’t a very understanding doctor for me, I’m assuming he is a human who engages in human activities. What if in the days before I went into his office he had seen several infographics about my disorder? What if he saw an Ehlers Danlos awareness tshirt while he was standing in line? Of course, it’s entirely possible he wouldn’t have noticed or cared, but there is also the chance that could have been a game changer for my medical care.

Awareness month matters to educate friends and family.

I realize I talk a lot about my illness on my blog- because my blog was created to support others who are dealing with the crazy, chronic life as well. In day to day communication, it doesn’t always come up. (Trust me. I’m awkward enough without greeting people by saying, “Hello. I have a rare disease that makes me fall apart sometimes!”) My friends and family learn about my illness through the information I share. How does that help? What if I’m out with a friend and faint or dislocate a hip? He/She will be more likely to know what is happening if they have a basic understanding of my illness.

Awareness month matters to the undiagnosed.

I was diagnosed with Ehlers Danlos Syndrome two days before my 30th birthday. Up until that day, I truly believed that I was less resilient than the general public. I had no clue why I had to fight tears when I walk down stairs, and other people can handle it. I thought I was immature as a young child when writing made my hands cramp until I cried, and no other students my age were crying. I had no idea there was a name for my struggle. I believed ugly words like weak and lazy, because I didn’t have a diagnosis to explain how I felt.

My mom recently shared a post about Ehlers Danlos Syndrome on her own social media. I was touched that she took time to do that. When I asked her about it she said, “I thought of all those years when we didn’t have answers for what was wrong with you, and I knew how much I would have appreciated someone sharing this information with us. Maybe it’ll help someone else.” Good words, Momma. So true.

May marks the awareness month for many conditions. (I’ll be honest. I’m afraid to try listing them, because I know I’ll leave someone out.) If it’s your month, let me encourage you to share information, encouragement, fund raisers, and anything else that you think needs to be said. This is your time of the year to attract attention for your struggle. Make some noise! Spread the word! Your awareness month matters!

Peace, love, and health, friends.