Snoskred - Life in the Country

Please welcome Lulu from Cherry Blossom Adventures to the blog -

This is the first time I have guest blogged on somebody else`s blog which is why this is out of my niche for me…

I grew up in Australia and was 19 the first time I lived in Japan…. after coming from a place where I had been driving since I was 16 and had to drive anywhere to be able to do anything it was an interesting transition to be able to walk outside 50m and buy an orange juice, or a beer…at 3am in the morning or any other time I chose. I also had to get used to riding a bike again, since there were no cars for us students and at that time we lived 20- minutes away from the station.

I had lived in Brisbane, just outside actually, most of my life in a place called the Redlands….it was near the water but my house really was in the middle of nowhere (My family lives bayside now)…..the closest shop was a 10-minute drive. My closest friend was a 10 minute drive….and my highschool boyfriend at the time was a 20 minute drive away and when we met neither of us could drive so we had to rely on our parents to shuttle us around.

Going from that to a place like Tokyo was a bit of a shock. Perhaps not as much of a shock as it would have been for someone from the country but a shock all the same.

I moved back to Tokyo 2 years ago now, to live with my boyfriend. He is Japanese, and yes we communicate in Japanese (one thing that isn’t convenient about Japan is the language…although it is not so much a problem for me anymore)…we lived in a tiny tiny apartment in a place called Kichijoji, which is in West Tokyo. It was a beautiful place, and I wish we still lived there now, except the 25m sq apartment wasn’t for me. But we lived a 2 minute walk from the closest train station, we had a 24hr 100yen shop across the road and a supermarket 100m away that was open until 2am everyday…If I had a craving for some chips at 3am I just had to walk across the road. If I ran out of beer during a house party, I just had to go across the road. If I wanted MacDonald’s I only had to walk around the corner…and it was a five-minute walk to the one of the nicest parks in Tokyo.

We still live in an apartment that is convenient (but thankfully bigger) a 6 minute walk from the station, a 3 minute walk to the supermarket and about the same as that to the local convenience store…We live closer to downtown Tokyo now and a taxi to Shinjuku costs $15 or a five minute train ride costs $1.60. It is not as convenient perhaps as where we lived before but it is a hell of a lot more convenient than where I was in Australia….We don’t own a car, and to tell you the truth we really don’t need one.

I am moving back to Australia in July this year for six months to a year so that I can spend some time with my family before my boyfriend and I get married and move back to Japan….he will study English and I will work in the city. I am not sure how I will go with having to drive to the supermarket or train station….or how I will go with paying $5 to catch the train when public transport is so much cheaper here. I love Australia, I really do, but will the convenience that is Japan have ruined me for Australia living?

Lulu is a 23 year old Aussie girl living in Tokyo with her Japanese boyfriend trying to make sense of the crazy but fun Japanese world she lives in. She has being blogging since mid 2006 - recently moving from Typepad to Wordpress at Cherry Blossom Adventures.

And remember, you can get out of your niche too - all bloggers are welcome. Just contact me.

Please welcome Sandy from Fighting Fatigue back to the blog -
Ever since the FDA approved the drug Lyrica for Fibromyalgia patients, skeptics have been crawling out from the woodwork to post their “opinions” on the validity of Fibromyalgia.

It amazes me that in this day and age, millions of people who are sick (3 - 6 million to be exact) with Fibromyalgia still feel as though they have to defend themselves and defend the fact that they are truly, physically ill.

I have been reading on different websites across the Internet comments such as:

- We are whiners who complained until someone gave us a drug to treat our so-called condition.
- People who legitimately suffer from chronic pain are few and far between.
- We are taking the easy way out by popping a pill and refusing to deal with the realities of life.
- We have so-called psychological issues due to the fact that we were neglected or treated unfairly as children.
- We expect the world to revolve around us and expect people to bow down to us because of our illness.

Yes, these are statements that I have been reading! All I can say to all of the Fibromyalgia skeptics who are out there, come live with me for one week. By the time you have spent 24 hours a day with me for 7 days, you will realize that it is impossible to fake this illness. Walk in my shoes for one day, one hour even, and you will have a new appreciation for what real strength is.

To those who don’t believe, I pray that the day comes where you are not struck down with a chronic illness. If you are, and if you seek out compassion, understanding and acceptance, remember how you treated others.

Sandy Robinson is 38, Female, live in the Northeast, married with a 6-year-old beautiful son. Sandy started the Fighting Fatigue website to help raise awareness and offer support to others for the chronic illnesses I Sandy personally suffers from: Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, Fibromyalgia, and Interstitial Cystitis.

Sandy also runs the Fighting Fatigue Forum and Message Boards for chronic illness sufferers to support each other about what they are going through.

Sandy the incredible thing about this post is I could easily replace the words Fibromyalgia and chronic pain with words like depression and everything you wrote would still apply. I don’t think sufferers of Fibromyalgia are alone in feeling that lack of compassion, understanding and acceptance.

I sometimes think many illnesses are like the existence of God - either you believe they exist because you personally suffer from them or you know someone who does, or you don’t believe they exist. People with mental illnesses like depression often feel that same need to defend themselves and rather than try to prove they are ill, they’ll just shut up. Good on you for not being silent about this.

Sandy also wrote - Maintaining A Positive Attitude While Chronically Ill previously as a guest poster for get out of your niche here on the blog.

And remember, you can get out of your niche too - all bloggers are welcome. Just contact me.

Please welcome Sueblimely as today’s guest poster -

I haven’t suffered the agony of writer’s block since I started blogging, that is, until my mind turned to this guest post. I have learned, with trial and effort (there have been many trials to practice on) that life does offer solutions, if you open your mind and let it . Something I read yesterday brought the solution that I should have thought of myself. I will write about a subject that has been a daily part of my life for 17 years now.

If you have heard of Fragile X Syndrome, you are probably still in the minority. When I heard the word 14 years ago it was only after 3 years of searching for the answer and 3 years of doubting my ability as a mother. Surely it must be my fault that all my son’s the niggly little illnesses, infections, ear infections, rashes and 3 years of a runny nose were due to lack of proper care and hygiene; his slow development a result of post natal depression, which saw me hospitalized for a month when he was 6 months old. Three years of doctors and nurses ignoring my concerns: “he is just a slower developer than your other two were my dear - he is doing things within the normal limits”. I can imagine the notes they made - “neurotic mother, suffers from anxiety and depression ” Doubts were my constant companion. Certainly having two older children who walked by 9 months, could read by 10mths, play the piano by 11mths … must be clouding my judgment - you detect exaggeration there - quite correct but they were in general earlier than the norm in all their ‘baby steps’.

When my son was 3 my health center nurse saw the light and referred me to a Pediatrician. I wanted to switch that light off again, wanted to believe all I had been told over the last three years. I did not want to believe a dismissive doctor who told me my son had a developmental disability, that it was unlikely the cause could be found (so he was not going to try) and “please close the door on your way out”. The first stage of grief hit, knocked me for six - denial and isolation. Thankfully the second arrived soon after; the anger that propelled me to action. If this b… doctor is not going to bother to even try finding an answer then I damn well was. My normal determination and single-mindedness returned in strength. A couple of months later I found my savior, a pediatrician, specializing in disability, who had heard of Fragile X and knew of a few things to look for. Seeing my son constantly flapping his hands in excitement (throw him off a cliff and he would probably be able to fly), noticing that he had only one palmer crease instead of two on his hand and that he was quite double jointed (he still relaxes on his bed with head resting on his foot!), he sent us for tests. Yes us, plural.

The results: my son suffers from Fragile X syndrome, the most common known cause of inherited intellectual disability and I believe the only known cause for an Autism Spectrum disorder. I am a carrier, as is my older son. My daughter is clear of the condition, as she inherited my X chromosome that does not have the Fragile X fault on it. Both my daughter and older son have an IQ near genius level.- not telling you mine :-). My mother was a carrier too, as I suspect was her father.

Was I upset by the results - no way. I had had to accept my son’s disability, but not being able to do anything had been tearing me apart. Now I went into action.. Read, research, learn, teach. A foot high mountain of bits and pieces of medical research from around the world was soon transformed into 20 pages of information, written in layman’s terms. This was then used by a fledgling Fragile X Support Group as an information package for those impacted by Fragile X - and to teach the medical profession, which was required regularly in the early days.. More importantly I had an insight into why my son behaved as he did, which was a huge help to me in dealing with it and helping him cope in life. My self esteem improved, there was a reason for his autistic tendencies, ADD, allergies, rashes, ear infections, eye problems, vomiting 30 times a day, lateness in talking, walking, hand flapping and why he could put his legs over his head with incredible ease. There was a reason why this adorable child could melt hearts with his smile even though he could not look them in the eye. His is a sociable kind of Autism. The world and its stimuli full of sights, smells, taste, touch and sounds are often too much for my very precious “Fraggle” to deal with but he is interested in it and its people.

I also found an answer for my own intermittent problems with depression and constant anxiety, which had ranged from mild to “stop the world I want to get off.”. Us female Fragile X carriers tend to be like that. I eventually, stubborn fool that I was, got the whole gamut of help I needed for this; which changed my life. Life is good.

When I read yesterday that a drug to cure Fragile X Syndrome is likely to go into clinical trials as soon as this year imagine how pleased I was. I have written about it on a site that I am developing for a friend who was part of that fledgling support group I mentioned earlier. Possible drug treatment for Fragile X Syndrome. Please take some time to read the details on Fragile X and check out the links for more info. There are many children out there with Fragile X who have not been diagnosed. Male Fragile X carriers suffer from a condition known as FXTAS which can be misdiagnosed as Parkinsons. Female carriers are more likely to suffer from depression, anxiety, early menopause and have twins. The more people who are aware of the condition, the more children and adults will get the help they need.

My nephew is autistic, though it wasn’t diagnosed until he was around 4. It can be quite frustrating to communicate with him. I absolutely adore him but I don’t think I could handle it on a daily basis. Enormous kudos to all the mothers out there with kids who suffer from any kind of disability, no matter how small it may seem.

You can read more from Sueblimely at Blogging Sueblimely.

And remember, you can get out of your niche too - all bloggers are welcome. Just contact me.

Please welcome Kelley from magneto bold too! with today’s guest post.

I was 6 when my dad got cancer for the first time.
Hodgkins lymphoma. Back in the late 70’s there was not a lot they could do.

They gave him 3 months to get his affairs in order.

I remember him coming home after that diagnosis. My brother and I in bed in our shared bedroom. An enormous room in our newly rented house after coming ‘home’ from a year living in rural Queensland. A room with a huge scary picture of the Queen in one corner, a wall of window and a makeshift partition to give us our own space.

He was drunk. Although I didn’t understand that at the time, as my father never drank. He was yelling and screaming and my mother was crying.

I was worried that he might wake the bird.

Kids.

He went to hospital. We played. We went to school. We made cubbies in the yard and collected skinks in an old pool.

One afternoon I was sitting in the lounge marvelling at how amazing eyes were. I was eating an orange and it squirted in my eye. It stung. Then I started contemplating how eyes work in my fascinated, unlimited imagination. It involved little men with levers and a boss with glasses giving out orders. And they were yelling cause I got orange juice all over their floor.

My mum came in and told me we were going to visit Daddy at the hospital.

We went on the train. We had icecream. We went to the bookstore and bought a book for Daddy and a book for me. Kids Own Book. It had activities and fun stuff to do in it. I was so excited about showing Daddy that book.

Down streets, up elevators, walking down scarily long corridors and finally we were at Daddy’s room. He was smiling. He looked tired. And skinny. But the other people in the room looked worse. But that was OK, cause this is the place that would make Daddy feel better and then he could come home and I could sit on his lap and cuddle again.

I looked out the window while my parents talked like adults. Boring adult stuff. I don’t remember the details. I was staring at the Nylex sign. The time keeper of Melbourne. An icon. Not that I knew that at the time, it was just a really cool, really big clock.

Soon it was time to go home. I don’t remember leaving. We went to McDonalds.

Kids. Funny the things they remember. So insular. Such a blessing.

A few days later Daddy was due to come home. But we weren’t allowed to go near him. Something about being radioactive.

I told the kids at school and they thought it was so cool. They said he would glow green! So in the middle of the night my brother and I crawled on our hands and knees to look under his bedroom door.

There was no glow. There was no pulsing light. We were jipped.

I don’t remember any more from that time. And that is because this is a happy tale.

Almost 30 years later my Daddy is still here. He was the doctors guinea pig. They tried every single experimental drug they could find on this young strapping healthy man with a death sentence. Drugs that today are common place. Therapies that are now saving thousands, if not hundreds of thousands of lives today.

Not that my Daddy had a choice in the matter mind you, but I like to think that my Dad made his mark on the world. A wonderful positive mark. And he did it with grace and quiet dignity so that all his children remember of that time is what they ate and a huge freaking clock outside his hospital window.

Now how was that for out of my niche? Seriously. No potty mouth in sight.

Kelley is a self-confessed potty mouth blogger and shoe addict. A fellow Aussie Blogger, Kelley is part of a new project which I am a big part of - one of the reasons I haven’t been around so much lately, details to follow soon. I am a huge fan of her blog and admire her for feeling free to use language on her blog which I was a bit gutless about using here.

You can read more from Kelley at magneto bold too! but be aware there is language present which may offend some readers.

And remember, you can get out of your niche too - all bloggers are welcome. Just contact me.