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~ Because demented people need love, too.

The Perks of Being an Artist

Category Archives: health

Is This What It’s Like?

17 Tuesday Jul 2018

Posted by emilypageart in dementia, health, mental health, Uncategorized

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

Alzheimer's, brain fog, caregiver, dementia, early stages of dementia, forgetfulness, frontal lobe dementia, frontotemporal dementia, migraine

For the last few days, I’ve been stupid. Alarmingly so. I get menstrual migraines, and a big part of them, for me, is that I can’t think straight. I get forgetful, I can’t concentrate, and logic doesn’t exist. My brain pod hurts, sure, and I get some nausea and visual disturbance, but I can keep mostly functional with meds. Except for the stupid. The meds don’t touch that. And the stupid makes life incredibly difficult – particularly this cycle. It reminds me of when I got a concussion at age 11 and lost my memory. I’ll have a conversation, and 20 seconds later, forget what it was about. I’ll know we talked about something, but I can’t tell you what. It took me 15 minutes to pack my lunch bag this morning because I kept opening the fridge to get something and forgetting what I was looking for, or setting some ziploc baggies down and forgetting where I put them.

And then I panicked. Is this what the early stages of dementia feel like? Stepping back and examining what I must look like – shuffling back and forth to the fridge but not taking anything from it, hunting for the ziploc bags that are right in front of me – I realized that this is exactly what I’ve seen dementia patients do. It’s terrifying. Is this how my dad felt in the beginning? Did he realize it? Did it scare him? Is this what I’ll be like when I first get dementia? Will I recognize it? Is it already happening? How would I know if this was migraine effects or dementia, given that the kind of dementia my dad had can hit even when you’re still young? I mean, this is clearly migraine related, but my level of brain fog during my migraines seems to be getting worse. Is it a sign?

I doubt anyone who’s been a caregiver to someone with dementia – especially to a parent – hasn’t at least briefly worried that they’ll develop it, too. I’d bet every one of us has listed the reasons why it’s more or less likely that we’ll suffer the same fate. I mean, my dad had dementia. I’ve had 5 concussions. I get migraines. I’ve been on various meds that could have altered something in me, upping the odds that I’ll get it in some form. I feel like it’s inevitable. It’s just a matter of when it’ll hit. And who would take care of me? I don’t have kids or nieces and nephews.

Normally, this would be the point in my post where I’d give you some kind of silver lining or put it all in perspective to make us all feel a little better. But I’m not up to it right now. Right now I’m just scared and in pain and I needed to say this all “outloud.”

Let’s make a pact, okay? I’ll keep voicing these fears, and you’ll be honest with me. If you ever feel like you’re seeing signs in me, please speak up. And I’ll do the same for you. And we’ll do our best to take care of each other.

Dat Dere_compressed

Dat Dere – explanation here

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I Got a Job

03 Thursday May 2018

Posted by emilypageart in health, humor, tattooing, Uncategorized

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

acupuncture, acupuncture office, new job, part-time job, receptionist, tattoo artist, work life balance

I got a job. Yup. I did. A part-time job, but a job nonetheless, so I may have a little less blogging time for the forseeable future. I’m working as an office manager and business development specialist for an internal medicine physician who practices pulse diagnosis neurological acupunture and herbal medicine. How was that for a lot of fancy words in one sentence? Really, I’m a glorified receptionist who tosses out innovative ideas like, “Hey, we should make some videos for social media!”

As part of my compensation, I get weekly acupuncture and herbs, which is cool, but very weird since it involved disclosing my medical history to my boss on the very first day. “Hi, I’m a hot mess who shouldn’t even be able to get out of bed most days. Surprise! Aren’t you glad you hired me?!”

You all know how much I didn’t want to get a job and lose time in the art studio and tattoo studio, so I was hoping my job search might take awhile, but nope. I got the first job I applied for. Stupid competence ruins everything. Luckily, the hours aren’t bad and actually break my day up a bit, so I spend less time crankily sitting around waiting for walk-ins at the tattoo shop. And it seems that I’m getting more tattoo work now that I have less time to be tattooing, which I guess is a good thing. But I only get 1 day off a week now, which is a less than good thing. And my new bosses asked me if I could work on that one day this weekend, so now I have to practice setting my boundaries and actually say “no.” Laziness Work-life balance and all. I like the physician and his fiancee, though, and so far they like me, and I think working there could actually end up being fairly rewarding. You know, helping all the peoples feel all the good feelies.

I’ve been taking fewer pictures of the tattoos I do because I guess I’m not feeling the need to document each and every one anymore. I’ve finally lost count of how many I’ve done. Does that make me a veteran tattoo artist? Not sure 6 weeks of tattooing qualifies me as one, but I’m going to pretend it’s true. That being said, I’ll still take pics of the more interesting ones and at least do weekly tattoo wrap-ups for those of you who don’t already follow me on the InstaBooks and the Facegrams.

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so many kinds of yes

11 Wednesday Apr 2018

Posted by emilypageart in culture, gratitude, health, kindness, mental health, tattooing, Uncategorized, writing

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

coping with depression, depression, ee cummings, ee cummings tattoo, poetry, reminder of the good in life, so many kinds of yes, stanza, sweet spring, tattoo, tattooing

I have a rule for myself: if I get an idea for a tattoo I want, I have to wait a year before I can get it. If I still want it a year later, then it’s not likely that I’ll regret the tattoo later in life. Well, it’s been more than a year since I got the idea for this tattoo, and 6 years since my last tattoo, so I decided it was time. Plus, I’ve never been tattooed by my tattoo mentor Julio, and I own a freakin’ tattoo shop. Julio had a little free time today, so I chained him to his tattoo chair and put him to work, even though today is his birthday (everyone say “Happy Birthday, Julio!!!!”).

My dad kept a magazine picture, of a little girl from a third world country carrying a jug of water on her head, in his music room to remind him that it could always be worse and that he really had it very good. It was one of the ways he dealt with his own depression. It helped him keep his life in perspective. To me, the picture just depressed me more, because not only did her situation not actually make my brain any more functional, but it frustrated me both that the world would allow her to have to live like that and that I couldn’t do anything about it. Reminding myself that I have an easy life just made me angrier that I still wasn’t able to be happy.

So instead, I’m choosing to just keep reminding myself to look for the good that’s all around me. Thank you Mr. Rogers. I have a stanza from an ee cummings poem printed out and taped onto the lightswitch in my art studio so that I see it coming and going. It’s a reminder that spring is always present in a million little ways if I just look hard enough. The color is there. The poem is called Sweet Spring, and the stanza I keep up is

(such a sky and such a sun

i never knew and neither did you

and everybody never breathed

quite so many kinds of yes)

I’m not spending much time in the art studio these days, because I’m busy learning a new way to make a living as an artist and spending all my time at the tattoo studio. I’m working to shape my life into what I want it to be and grabbing every opportunity that comes my way. I’m making all that color mine. When I can. And when I can’t, maybe my tattoo will remind me that there are just

so many kinds of yes.jpg

 

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Drunken Black Whirligig

05 Thursday Apr 2018

Posted by emilypageart in art, death, dementia, health, mental health, Uncategorized

≈ 7 Comments

Tags

absence of color, coping, death, dementia, depression, grief, mental illness, pinwheel

It hasn’t been the easiest of weeks. I’ve had a little too much down time. Appointments at the tattoo studio are few and far between since I’m still so new and haven’t developed a big customer base yet (hint hint: tell everyone you know to come see me!). So I’ve had a lot of time to think. That’s not always a good thing for me, because it leads to negative, cyclical swirling in my brain. It’s like my brain is a drunken whirligig of black and gray and more black and more gray. There’s an absense of color in my head sometimes.

I’ve had too much time to look at photos of the tattoos I’ve done and pick them apart and get mad at myself for them not being perfect. I’ve had too much time to worry about the probability that I’ll have to get a job soon since I’m not bringing in much money at the tattoo studio yet. When I’m not constantly distracted, I have too much time to focus on my body, which spends most of its time complaining about its own mere existence and threatening to quit. And when I get tired (which is always) and achy (which is always) and nauseated (which is often), and don’t have a decent distraction, I get little mini flashbacks of those final couple days by my dad’s bedside when I was so utterly drained and exhausted and ill and grief-stricken. And then, of course, I am again grief-stricken.

For some reason, the universe always chooses these moments to give me little nudges to keep me thinking about my dad. Lucky pennies left in the grocery store parking lot, dementia reminders all over the news, tv shows and movies where a parent dies, radio shows about grief…millions of little things that become an onslaught at a moment when I’m already fragile. I’ve cried. A lot. Which is embarrassing when I’m sitting in my tattoo studio room. Not the most professional. Thank god we have doors to close so I can hide for a minute or two and compose myself.

The thing that really gets me is that I’m still not missing my dad. I’m missing my demented dad, my sick dad. And I’m replaying his final days and trying to figure out how I could have spared him that pain somehow. I’m not thinking about him napping happily on the sofa with the cat, or hiking down the train tracks with him, or how he had a very particular way of eating yogurt. I remember those things, sure, but I can’t make myself focus on them. Instead, my brain goes to the hardest, most painful moments with him and replays them over and over. Those painful memories have become syndicated reruns, invading seemingly innocuous moments and leveling me.

I don’t know how to change my focus. I don’t know how to slow the whirligig down and add a little color. I keep trying to will my attention to happier things, like throwing colorful chalk dust onto all the ugliness, but the whirligig just blows the color all away again. I wish there was a way to scrub my memory clean of the dark stuff, because I know there’s color underneath. It’s there. It peeks out periodically. Sometimes it bursts forth and the blackness cracks and shatters and I can sweep it up and toss it out. But the black always comes back. And I’m okay with a little darkness; it’s familiar and makes the good stuff seem that much better. But lately it’s been overwhelming. I wish I could find some balance. Or maybe still have it not be balanced, but have the color on the winning team.

whirligig pinwheel

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I’m Back. And I’m Old. And My Back Is Old.

03 Friday Nov 2017

Posted by emilypageart in art, health, humor, painting, Uncategorized

≈ 20 Comments

Tags

art, artist, chickadee drawing, chickadee painting, chickadees, cow giving birth, painting, Raleigh art, Raleigh artist, throw out your back, throwing out your back, watercolor, watercolor and ink

A couple days ago, I got to work on a couple new painting videos for you. The first one went fine and you can view it below. But during the second one, three things happened: 1) my phone stopped recording for no reason, 2) when I realised it, I got distracted and knocked a ton of ink all over the painting, and 3) when I stood up and reached forward about 20 degrees, I threw my back out. Awwwwwwesome. Is this what 40 looks like?! So then I stood there for about a half hour afraid to move, all the while screaming obscenities in my brain and wishing I could scream them out loud but knowing it would hurt too much. Greeeaaaaaat. I finally managed to sit, but that made it worse, so I kind of oozed and rolled my way to the floor and lay there for a while. By the way, there’s a lot of dust under the guest bed. I know that now…not that I’ll be cleaning under there any time soon.

Eventually, the need to pee convinced me to do my best Walking Dead impression and I zombie-walked to the bathroom where I stood and stared at the toilet for a while trying to figure out how I was going to lower myself onto it. First time in my life I actually wished I was in a public restroom because there are handicap bars for this kind of thing, y’all. Finally managed to sit and then had to stay there for a while trying to figure out how to wipe without screaming.

Since then, I’ve been stuck mostly in bed with the exception of when I need to get up to pee. I fear the process of getting in and out of bed looks and sounds disturbingly like a cow giving birth, but S married me for better or for worse, so tough shit, Sweetums.

I did manage to shower today, so I smell a little less like a cow giving birth. So there’s that. And I could sit up enough to get this video uploaded and onto my blog because that’s how much I love you.

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It’s Not Me, It’s My Head

18 Tuesday Jul 2017

Posted by emilypageart in cats, health, humor, Uncategorized

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

blogging, cats, cluster headache, cupid, depression, headache, inspiration, jersey shore, kitties, kitty love, mental fog, migraine, postdrome, snooki, tension headache

I know I’ve been promising to get better about posting more regularly again. And I meant it when I promised it. But my head didn’t agree. I said, “I swear I’m going to post more,” but my head was all like, “Oh, but I have other ideas. I’m going to give you a week of migraines, cluster headaches, and tension headaches. And maybe some caffeine withdrawal headaches. And probably brain tumors or something. And then I’m going to give you postdrome, just for funsies.” Apparently, my head didn’t make that up, and “postdrome” is actually a thing. Basically, my head was like, “Hey, you know what would be fun? After a bunch of pain, let’s be stupid!!” And I totally went along with it. Because stupid is awesome?*

Also, I’m heading into that time of year when I go into a depression, and my creative juices dry up. I get creatively dehydrated. Not even bourbon can quench my creative thirst. It’s coming on a little early this year, due in part, I’m guessing, to all the headbitching. So I run out of interesting things to say and paint and instead spend all of my time binge watching Jersey Shore and complaining that not all three cats are snuggling with me at every single moment of every single day. I either need more cats or a smaller house so that there are less places for the cats I already have to sleep that don’t involve directly touching me.

all ma kitties

All mah kittehs on me at the same time. I has the heaven.

On top of that, as I have mentioned in the last two posts, I’m going through a major work transition that’s causing a fair amount of chaos from which I would prefer to hide. I was going to post about that right now, but I’m going to drag this shit out into another post so that I can do the work now, and not have to come up with anything to post about over the next couple days, thus maximizing my binge watching/snuggles time tomorrow and the next day. Fuck you postdrome, I bees smart.

*I was going to insert a clip of Snooki, from Jersey Shore, asking if cherubs were real, but apparently, that little nugget of reality TV gold didn’t register on anyone else’s radar enough to isolate a clip and post it on YouTube. So here’s a transcript I created:

Italian, tour guide, pointing out a fresco: “Cupid, the son of Venus, who will throw the arrow of love…”

Snooki: “So they’re real?”

Tour guide: “What – what do you mean are they real?”

Snooki: “The babies with wings?”

Tour guide: “They are character of mythology.”

Snooki: “Cool.”

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Really, LivingSocial?

02 Sunday Jul 2017

Posted by emilypageart in culture, health, humor, Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

bargain, deals, fun summer activity, livingsocial, notary, notary service, vouchers

LivingSocial sent an email under the title “Popular Activities” yesterday, so I opened it up to get some ideas of fun stuff to do. Along with mini golf and dirt racing, it offered this:

Notary

Really, LivingSocial? You think Notary Service is a popular activity? A necessary activity, perhaps, but popular seems to imply it’s something you want to go do. I mean, no one turns to their significant other says, “You know what we should do tonight? Let’s let loose and really have some fun. Let’s invite a notary over! Ooooooh!”

I was a notary when I worked in Florida. I can tell you, not much fun was being had notarizing legal document signings – at least not for me. But maybe my clients really enjoyed signing that last will and testament, who knows?

Also, if I recall correctly, I charged about $15 for my services. Granted, I didn’t go to customers’ houses to do it, but it wasn’t that big a deal for them to come to my office, was  it? Is it really reasonable that their normal fee is $90 and they’re providing this amazing offer at $45?

But if LivingSocial says this is the thing to do, who am I to argue? So if you’re looking for an awesome activity to do with the kids this summer, take advantage of this great deal and have a notary come over to play! And if you can get a bargain on a colonscopy, I heard those were “popular,” too.

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My Cervix Is Not a Cloaca

17 Wednesday May 2017

Posted by emilypageart in endometriosis, health, humor, mental health, Uncategorized

≈ 20 Comments

Tags

birth control options, boils, cervix, Chris Pratt, cloaca, endometriosis, erythema nordosum, gynecologist, magic, mosh pit, superhero

My cervix is an asshole. I mean, not technically. It’s not, like, a cloaca or anything, even though it’s acting kind of shitty. It’s still a cervix. But it’s kind of being a dick. Again, not technically. It’s still a lady-part. What I mean is that, for the last 6 or 7 years, it’s taken its job as Guardian of the Galaxy waaaaaay too seriously – like, thin Chris Pratt seriously, even though we all know fat Chris Pratt is so much funnier (yes, my friends finally talked me into watching Parks and Rec and I’m part way through the second season so it’s virtually all I think about).

chris pratt

Gentlemen, you should probably look away now.

Ladies, does your cervix cooperate? Because mine is all, “You ain’t payin’ rent, so you ain’t comin’ in,” to my doctor when she tries to get a sample during a pap smear. She pokes and prods whispers sweet nothings into my vagina, but my cervix is closed for business. If it had a shoulder, it would give her a cold one. Then, when the doctor finally gives up, my body throws a dance party, but it clearly gets out of control and turns into a mosh pit which is all fun and games until someone pokes an eye out…if my cervix had eyes…or even just one eye…which it doesn’t…I’m pretty sure. Anyway, I’m sure the mosh pit is fun for my reproductive organs, but I interpret all that hurling itself around as painful cramping which is less fun. Also, I feel a little left out that I wasn’t invited to the party. I can rock a lampshade on my head with the best of them. But I guess you don’t really wear a lampshade in a mosh pit (etiquette and all), so maybe that’s why I wasn’t invited.

So, then I asked my doctor if my cervix had, like, super powers, and I no longer need birth control to avoid getting pregnant because it would stop sperm in their tracks, but she just looked at me condescendingly and patiently explained that sperm are microscopic, and my cervix isn’t magical. Then she also reminded me that when I go off of the pill, my endometriosis goes craycray and I get erythema nordosum, so I should really stay on it. But then I said that maybe my cervix was so magical that it caused the erythema nordosum just to give itself a break, which is genius and pretty much the best birth control ever because no man wants to be with a woman covered in boils. My cervix is smart, y’all. I suggested we make it a cape in case it also has the ability to fly. Then she noted something in my chart and left the room. I don’t know why.

So I dressed quickly and hightailed it out of there before she either ordered a psych consult or alerted the enemy about my superhero cervix.

P.S. Cross your fingers that the doctor got enough of a sample that I don’t have to go back again for another try and pay for it again.

P.P.S. I was going to draw you a little picture of my cervix wearing a cape, but then I Googled cervix images to work from, and now I need to go throw up. Or drink some bourbon.

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Dementia Care Book Recommendation

31 Friday Mar 2017

Posted by emilypageart in dementia, health, Uncategorized

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

book about dementia, book review, dementia, dementia care, dementia care facilities, Rachael Wonderlin

I swapped books with an author of a dementia care book recently, and I’m relieved to be able to say that it’s great! It’s always a risky endeavor because you never know if you’ll like the other author’s book. Luckily, Rachael Wonderlin’s book, When Someone You Know Is Living in a Dementia Community, is well-written and she definitely “gets it.” It’s full of tips about how to have good visits with someone in a dementia care facility, how to deal with staff, how to keep someone with dementia happy and reduce their anxiety, and how to make interactions with them rewarding for you, too. Rachael has worked at several dementia care units and clearly loves working with this population. She’s a good problem solver and has a lot of patience and empathy. I highly recommend picking up a copy if you know someone with dementia or know a caregiver of someone with dementia. She also has a blog called Dementia by Day. You can buy a copy of her book on Amazon here.

Rachael Wonderlin book

******************************************************************************************

Thanks so much for reading my ridiculous thoughts! If you’d like to see my ridiculous thoughts translated into art, visit my website, or follow me on Facebook and Twitter. Know a caregiver, or someone with dementia, or someone who knows someone with dementia, or someone who knows someone who knows someone else who’s a caregiver? Or heck, do you know a person? Well, you should tell them about my book, Fractured Memories: Because Demented People Need Love, Too. Part memoir and part coffee table art book, I recount my family’s heartbreaking and hilarious journey through my father’s dementia. Available to purchase here (this is my favorite way if you live in the U.S.), here or here if you’d rather get the eBook than a print copy, and here (especially if you want a hard cover copy).

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Ultimate Woman

10 Friday Mar 2017

Posted by emilypageart in health, humor, Uncategorized

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

health, humor, mental illness, silliness, silly, ultimate woman, vitamins

Sometimes I wonder about my own mental health. Why do I do these things?

ultimate woman

***********************************************************************

Thanks so much for reading my ridiculous thoughts! If you’d like to see my ridiculous thoughts translated into art, visit my website, or follow me on Facebook and Twitter. Know a caregiver, or someone with dementia, or someone who knows someone with dementia, or someone who knows someone who knows someone else who’s a caregiver? Or heck, do you know a person? Well, you should tell them about my book, Fractured Memories: Because Demented People Need Love, Too. Part memoir and part coffee table art book, I recount my family’s heartbreaking and hilarious journey through my father’s dementia. Available to purchase here (this is my favorite way if you live in the U.S.), here or here if you’d rather get the eBook than a print copy, and here (especially if you want a hard cover copy).

book-cover-1

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