Oxygenated

I'm currently living at an altitude at least 8000 feet, possibly 1500 feet higher in elevation than the last time I was in Northern New Mexico. I'm having a difficult time adjusting. I keep getting dizzy and sleepy. When I check my oxygen levels with the little finger meter, it says my O2 levels are at 86 or so. This isn't good. My body needs at LEAST 90% oxygen - and even better if I had at least 94%. 

My sister has a prescription oxygen machine she has been letting me use while up here. I'm wearing it at night, when I sleep, and many times, during the day. And it's helping. I'm sleeping better and waking up more refreshed. The morning bags under my eyes have nearly disappeared! But, many times I find I get woozy during the day and need to wear the cannula (the thing that goes into my nostrils) and trail the cord behind me while doing my daily activities. 

I went 'into town' (what we call it when driving from way out here, into Taos), yesterday, and by the time I returned, I was very dizzy and knew I needed the oxygen ASAP. Is there anyplace I can live that is dry, not too hot, and at a lower altitude? I'm tired of recreating the "Perils of Pauline" with my life. I swear I'm not consciously creating all of this drama. I'm not a whirling dervish, spinning in circles trying to whip up crisis after crisis. There's a TED Talk from a pediatrition, who is convinced that childhood trauma causes an exponentially higher risk for major diseases and illnesses, as adults. And we know I had a shit-ton of that. And look at my recent, health-crisis-ridden life. Here's the video: 

But my sisters were raised by the same woman and have not had nearly the amount of health issues I have had. About 6 weeks ago, after I had been pushed to the edge by not only my latest "cancer" diagnosis, but by an apartment full of mold, a dishonest man who stole my tires and replaced them with bad, nearly bald ones, and an appointment with a male gynecologist/oncologist who I am certain did NOT wear a glove while examining me, AND an argument with my sister, I had a flash of a trauma that had been hidden for decades! A memory of abuse so awful I dug a hole 20 feet deep into my deepest synapses and poured concrete on top. The (hopefully) final piece of childhood trauma my psyche worked hard to protect me from during my waking hours. Since that memory of sexual abuse, I have been much calmer. But I'm sure I have a lot of things to work out in therapy. I hope this recovered piece will stop my littany of surgeries and treatments.

I want to breathe again. I want to be a whole, vital, healthy human being. I want my blog posts to center around a happy life. I want to tell stories of music and dancing and laughter and joy. And kitties and puppies and bunnies and flowers. The stuff that makes life worth living. The breath of life. Or, I'd like to be so engaged in a happy life that I don't feel the need to share everything here. Luckily these writings aren't super popular, so very, very few people would miss them. Until that time comes, I'm glad I have this platform. 

Thanks for reading.