PJ Returns to Reflect

This is Louis (aka the Sommelier). He's a curious cat who dropped by during a winery visit a few years ago. I fell for him instantly. You see I've always wanted a cat in my life.* I suppose that's because I relate so well to them. They're social when they want to be, but they're equally at ease on their own. They are boundary-setters. Some days they're in your lap yet other days they prefer to be with you at a distance, or not at all. They're boundless energy or completely at rest. I respect their mercurial temperaments. In just about every sense, they're my spirit animals.

Hi. I'm PJ. Some may remember me from years gone by. I once wrote solely under a pseudonym. I've since published on a variety of topics using my full name, but in today's fraught world a fully traceable public identity feels riskier than ever. There is no room, no grace for dimension or nuance. When it comes to some forms of expression, I'm not interested in living under a spotlight. 

So, for now, in this new space, I'd like to see if my thoughts and words can once again flow more freely. I've missed the honesty and intimacy of exploring ideas and experiences organically.  Today, I cast off the straight jacket to give blogging another go.

~~~

Adapting begrudgingly

Making sense of the unexpected goes hand in hand with being alive. The best days in life combine the familiar and novel in ways that feel effortless and exciting. A new vista, a joyful discovery, or connecting with someone or something in way we didn't anticipate.

The tougher days challenge and encumber us. Rather than bounding we stumble. It's in the stumbling and cursing where I often learn the most. That's because I'm forced to adapt -- usually against my will.

*Take cats. These fine felines present a double-edged sword. While I adore them and find them endlessly fascinating, they could kill me in a matter of hours. Not kill as in mountain lion attacks from out of nowhere and ends me full stop. Kill as in death by a thousand cuts. There's an enzyme in cat saliva that gets deposited every time they groom. Cats groom frequently. As they shed and move about their environment their dander falls microscopically all around. While outside and at some distance I can accommodate their biology. Inside is another story. Cat dander settles in and around cushions, rugs, drapes, you name it. Once I inhale that dander (and accompanying enzyme) it makes its way into my respiratory passages. This triggers an 'alarmin' level immune response that escalates quickly to a severe asthma attack. Accordingly, I've had to come to peace with knowing that 'Caturday' posts and admiring their bedeviling whiskered faces from afar is all I'll ever get in this lifetime.

(Dogs, most of which shed constantly, also trigger a dangerous dander response. But truthfully, if dogs all disappeared tomorrow, I wouldn't miss them. Apart from one or two exceptional canines I've taken a shine to I'm about the farthest thing from a 'dog person' you'll find. Their barking, charging, non-stop demands for attention and overall neediness -- not to mention constant appearance along with poop bags in all manner of public places today -- gets on my nerves something fierce). 

In short, life as person with severe asthma and immune response is far from easy. I'm always on guard. People and their pets routinely act as though people with life-threatening allergic responses are the villains when in human-centric spaces. I accept (begrudgingly) that I'll always be the one who has to accommodate -- whether searching extensively for hotels that don't cater to traveling pet owners or declining at home dinners or parties where animals live. It's a one-way street. Breathing is too important. 

New setback

Humans, as a rule, take mobility for granted.  I've never been particularly athletic but walking and hiking have long brought freedom and joy. This ambulatory activity went on to save my sanity and maintain my fitness through the pandemic and beyond. Taking a stroll cleared my head and gave me reason to explore not just at home but abroad. Then a very weird stiffness developed in both ankles last September. In October this progressed to extreme swelling that made both my legs not just ugly but painful. Hobbled I also got downright scared and then alternated between determined and sulky. Months of petitioning my health insurance company for tests and fighting to overturn denial of care consumed my days -- all in search of a diagnosis, which I finally got a month ago: 

Chronic Extrapulmonary Sarcoidosis

While I'd done research into pulmonary sarcoidosis in 2023 while recovering from Covid pneumonia, this flavor of disease was truly head-spinning. It took a rheumatologist to put it all together. She gathered the clues from bloodwork, an MRI and my symptom tracking. All added up to rare inflammatory arthritis, lymphopenia and chronic sarcoid arthropathy -- just in time for Sarcoidosis Awareness month. What auspicious timing.

In addition to an expensive monthly asthma biologic injection, I'm now on 300 mg of hydroxychloroquine to keep my immune system better contained.  It will take up to three months for the medication to truly provide any level of relief. Meanwhile, I'm lucky if I can manage just a touch more than a mile before my legs begin radiating pain. No more 5-6 miles hikes in nature, which makes me alternatively sad and ornery.

It seems all my conditions (chronic allergies, eosinophilic asthma, chronic sinusitis with nasal polyps, endometriosis, unexplained infertility and now, the rare orphan disease, chronic extrapulmonary sarcoidosis) all share one thing in common. My immune system is hyper vigilant and easily irritated. 

That sounds a lot like my personality, too. I guess I come by it honestly. 

Grateful for blog connections

The first time I found myself isolated and unable to move freely through society, at the dawn of internet communities I turned to blogging.  Today, it was a long-time friend and blogger, Klara, who pointed me to a mutual friend and blogger, Mali, who in turn referenced Elaine's latest post. 

Each in their own way got me to set up this new blog account. Their words and actions remind me that when life offers up lemons it's up to us to make lemonade. While our setbacks can sometimes knock us on our ass, it's our friends and our collective sense of humor and wisdom that give us the perspective we need to adapt (however begrudgingly) to what comes next.

So, I'm going to embrace my inner Louis and do my best to be a curious cat even if it is harder on some days than on others.