What It’s Like To Have JOOVV (Full Body Red Light) Therapy

I visited my physical therapist today (which is to say that since we were back in the town where we used to live, I scheduled appointments for myself and Spousal Unit). Although I had been seeing my PT for several years, this was Spousal Unit’s first time receiving treatment from her.

While we were there getting treatment, my PT mentioned that she had a new device that was supposed to help reduce inflammation, and offered to let Spousal Unit and me try it, if we were interested.

So after we had completed our other treatments, we each took a turn trying full body red light therapy, which consisted of going into a private room, taking off all of our clothes except our underpants and our socks (because cold floor), and standing between two red light panels for 10 minutes.

The two panels were parallel to each other and set about two foot apart.  One panel was taller than the other.  The larger one was about the size of a narrow full-length mirror, and the other panel was the same width, but about a foot shorter.  I stood between them for ten minutes, switching to face the other panel halfway through (at the five minute mark).

Due to my chronic migraines and attendant light sensitivity, my PT suggested I wear my dark sunglasses during the light therapy. I began by facing the shorter panel. The light was bright even through my sunglasses that block 97% of light, but it was tolerable.

Initially, I felt discomfort in my digestive system as the light therapy began. It intensified to the point that I wondered if I could endure the full session, but then the discomfort dissipated. I also felt pain in my left elbow, which also intensified and then dissipated. After that, I didn’t have any more pain or discomfort.

I *did* feel warmth to the point that I nearly began to sweat, even though red light therapy is not intended to be particularly heating, as compared to an infra-red sauna, which is intended to be very warm.

After five minutes, I turned around so that I was facing the taller panel. The light on my eyes was more intense, since the top of the panel was directly at eye level, but it was tolerable with my very dark sunglasses on and my eyes closed.

After I completed my full body red light therapy session, I put my clothes back on and went back to the waiting area while Spousal Unit had a turn.

I experienced the following effects after full body red light therapy: I noticed that my lower back was less stiff when I was getting re-dressed than it had been prior to the red light therapy. I felt temporarily nauseated for less than five minutes while I was waiting in the waiting area afterward, but then it passed. I was also very thirsty, but I am typically thirsty after PT, so it’s hard to say whether my thirst was intensified by the red light therapy or not. So most of my symptoms were minor and (very) short term. However, I did feel muscle weakness for about two hours afterward.  Spousal Unit reported feeling warm, but no other effects.

My PT did not charge anything additional for us to try this new therapy, although I did notice that her rates had increased by $5 since my previous visit approximately 6 months ago.

After I got back to our camper, I did some research into full body red light therapy, and so far, it is considered experimental and likely safe.  Like many other health products, it claims to treat many different ailments.  Based on my research, the strongest scientifically-supported claims seem to be for reducing inflammation and stiffness.  Since I have chronic inflammation, it is possible that I might find some relief from using red light full body therapy.  If you are considering using this therapy, please do your own diligence in investigating the strength of the claims for your particular condition.  Given that red light therapy is still experimental, also consider whether the cost is worth it to you – there may be other, proven, therapies that might benefit you more.

If you decide to try it, consider taking a pair of sunglasses, and consider that your hair will need to be up out of the way so that the light can reach as much of your skin as possible.  My PT said that many patients read their phones while receiving red light therapy, but I didn’t since I wanted to expose as much of my skin as possible and because my very dark sunglasses are not prescription, so I wouldn’t have been able to read my phone anyway.

My PT had a Joovv brand red light therapy device, but there are other manufacturers of red light therapy devices, both for commercial and at-home applications.

CAUTION: IT IS POSSIBLE TO BURN YOURSELF OR CAUSE DAMAGE TO YOUR EYES with at-home red light therapy devices if you are not careful.  *Please follow all manufacturers’ instructions.*

For more detailed information about red light therapy, see this c|net article or this medical journal article or this extensive article from Healthy But Smart.

NOTE: Red light therapy is also known as photobiomodulation (PBM), low-level laser therapy (LLLT), cold laser therapy, and many other names.

NOTE: Because red light therapy is considered experimental, it is not FDA approved for most conditions, and it is not covered by healthcare  insurance, meaning they will not pay for it.

NOTE: Prior to red light therapy, I had also received manual manipulations, damp heat, and interferential electric nerve stimulation (e-stim) therapy during this visit.

BOTTOMLINE: If you have rheumatoid arthritis or other joint pain or inflammatory conditions, red light therapy may provide modest short-term relief of pain and inflammation.  Red light therapy currently appears to be considered likely safe when used correctly.

The information contained in this article is for educational and informational purposes only and is not intended as health or medical advice. Always consult a physician or other qualified health provider regarding any questions you may have about a medical condition or health objectives.

A Doctor is Messing with My Meds Again – It is not going well

I haven’t posted much lately, so here’s a quick update. I’ve been trialing Xolair, a medication that my allergist hoped would improve my quality of life. It did not have the specific effects that my allergist had hoped for, so she recommended I discontinue it. [*For my experience with Xolair, see the end of this post]

At the same time, and against my better judgement, my allergist wanted me to discontinue another medication. I try very hard to only change one variable at a time, so that I can try to isolate its effects and have a better idea of what is causing what. Which I reminded the allergist.

But sometimes it’s hard to effectively advocate for myself, because the trip to the VA hospital is so stressful on my body (3+ hour car ride each way, making sure I have access to bathrooms during the trip, my joints seize up during the ride making it hard to walk, flourescent lights in the hospital, hand sanitizer everywhere [I’m allergic], fragrances everywhere [ditto], stress from dealing with healthcare providers, stress from trying to avoid contact with the antiseptic I’m allergic to, trying to maintain my medication schedule and my eating schedule, etc.). When I have an allergic reaction, it affects my cognitive abilities. Imagine trying to have an intelligent discussion with your doctor during the worst fuzzy-headedness you’ve ever experienced during a coldI just can’t think straight, and therefore I can’t process what the doctor is telling me and effectively evaluate their plan of action.

In this case, I *should have said* – “Let’s not change anything else while I’m coming off the Xolair. Let’s subtract that and evaluate the reaction for a few months.” But I was not successful in conveying how slowly we needed to proceed.

What happened instead was: I expressed some concerns, the doctor gave me one last Xolair injection, and told me to slowly start stepping down off my other medication (we agreed on one increment/week), and then not to return for my Xolair injection a month later.

So, against my better judgement (never mess with a stable patient), I started decreasing my medication. The first week I had a chronic migraine (for the entire week). So I returned to the full dose the following week. Once the migraine ended and I felt stable again, I reduced my dose by one increment the third week. I’m less clear on what happened after that, because I was slipping into brain fog and lethargy. At some point, I realized two weeks had gone by, because I was refilling my pill caddy again. The next two weeks went by even quicker. The entire month of September came and went, with nothing to show for it on my part.

Cognitive side effects from medications, illnesses, or injuries are insidious because they affect your ability to detect them and your ability to get help.

Crew Dog, onesickvet.com

Initially, I had thought my body was recovering from the trip to the VA, then from the migraine, then from the refinance efforts. But eventually (through the brain fog) I realized that it was probably a result of changing my meds. An additional month went by during which I was not only reducing one medication, but had also discontinued the Xolair, and I had limited cognitive ability and no energy. Like, stand up, accomplish one very small task, and need to sit down/lie down and rest.

Once I figured out what was underlying my symptoms, I contacted my allergist, who agreed to put me back on Xolair while I continue to step-down off the other medication. We’ll see how that goes.

MEANWHILE, in the media, *another* medication I’m on, Zantac (generic name, ranitidine), started getting a lot of attention. At first, it was reported that a few batches of generic Zantac had been found to be contaminated with a substance that is a known cancer-causing substance [NDMA; also see here]. After research into the situation, including reading this FDA statement, I decided to monitor developments but continue to take my prescribed ranitidine. Then Novartis/Sandoz announced that it would do a voluntary recall of its product. Then additional manufacturers announced voluntary recalls [see here for Apotex] and major pharmacies such as Walgreens, Walmart, and Rite Aid announced they would be removing ranitidine from their shelves. I contacted my allergist to determine the manufacturer of my ranitidine, but was unable to get an answer to that specific question. My allergist did, however, talk to the pharmacist at our VA hospital about the situation, and relay information from the pharmacist to me, which I appreciated. Although there has not been an FDA recall of ranitidine, we decided that I would switch to famotidine out of an abundance of caution (and because I have no way of determining the actual manufacturer of the ranitidine I receive from the VA). I am currently waiting for that prescription to be filled.

So, to recap: I tried a new drug. Its effects were subtle but beneficial. Since I had to drive 6-7 hours roundtrip every month to receive the injections, and the doctor did not perceive a dramatic enough improvement, we decided to discontinue the new medication. Overlapping with this change, we also changed another drug. My quality of life took a drastic hit. Now I’m trying to stabilize, but I need to change *a third* medication. Meanwhile, my quality of life has tanked and I’ve spent seven weeks in bed or on the couch.

I’ve lost two months of my life because my new allergist wanted to change my medications and see what happened. I’m tired of being a living medical experiment, although I guess it’s better than being a dead one.

Crew Dog, onesickvet.com

*My impressions of Xolair: It helped me breathe better and gave me (a lot) more energy, but I seemed to be *more* reactive to foods and smells. We had hoped I would be *less* reactive to foods and smells.

#IsMyCrazyShowing: Myths About Mental and Physical Illnesses

I read a Twitter thread recently about an individual in the UK who had their disability benefits revoked because the assessor said that they “looked too glamorous” to be mentally ill.

Now, this may sound silly to you if you’re not disabled or chronically ill, but I would submit that a) chronically ill/disabled people don’t think it’s silly, because they have to deal with biases and struggles such as this (getting disability reinstated) all the time; and b) this is one example of common biases and myths about mental and physical illness. Let’s talk about them.

Myth #1: Sick people LOOK sick.

Crew Dog, onesickvet.com

Having been told many, many times that I “don’t look sick” or “but you look good” (even from doctors), I must assume that people’s perception of illness is stuck in the Middle Ages: If someone is carrying a dangerous contagion like the Black Plague, they will have obvious external symptoms, and healthy people will easily be able to avoid them and stay healthy.

The flip side, that people who look healthy must be healthy, is part of a cognitive bias known as physical attractiveness stereotype.

Myth #2: People who look healthy ARE healthy.

Crew Dog, onesickvet.com

This myth is pervasive – and dangerous. Especially when combined with body dysmorphia. I know chronically ill women who look malnourished – because they *are* malnourished, due to their health conditions. But, thanks to the pervasive lie in Western society that women can never be too thin, these malnourished, ill women are told they look great, and even are the objects of envy from other women. And many people with eating disorders are praised for the way they look – until they have lost so much weight that their health (and lives) are in severe danger. So, “looks healthy” does not equal “is actually healthy,” and skewed perceptions of what “looks healthy” may not actually align with what a truly healthy person looks like (if there is such a thing).

Other examples of looking healthy not equating to actually being healthy include Jim Fixx, the runner who helped spearhead the running/jogging fitness movement but who dropped dead of a heart attack at 52. Or Catherine Zeta-Jones, who looks fabulous but has bipolar disorder. Or Selma Blair, who also looks fabulous, but has MS (multiple sclerosis). [Can we just pause a moment and appreciate all of the celebrities who are “coming out” about their health problems? I am so glad they are joining the conversation, raising its profile, and “normalizing” health problems, chronic illnesses, and disabilities.]

Additionally, most people with cancer don’t look any different from people without cancer (at least, before they receive treatments that can make their hair fall out and such). So why does the myth that people who look certain ways are healthy persist?

Myth #3: “Crazy” people look obviously crazy.

Crew Dog, onesickvet.com

Again, the myth persists that “crazy” people look crazy, like Michael Keaton in Beetlejuice, or any actor who played The Joker in the Batman series, or like Bertha Rochester (the crazy wife in the attic) in Jane Eyre, or perhaps even Bellatrix Lestrange, from the Harry Potter books. I can only assume that, like with the Black Plague analogy for physical illnesses, this myth persists because people would like to believe that they can perceive and avoid mental illnesses and the people who have them (instead of haplessly marrying them, like Mr. Rochester did).

But believing that “crazy” people look crazy is harmful in so many ways. One example of which being the original Twitter thread that started this rant blog post: the harm that comes when people are judged to “look too good” to have a mental illness.

First of all, mental illness covers a broad spectrum, and most mentally ill people (or people with mental illness, if you prefer that language) are no harm to others.

Second, as scientists and medical professionals (slowly) learn more about mental illnesses, they are developing more effective treatments. Perhaps much of the lingering fear of mental illness persists from the days when there were few effective treatments, and patients were simply locked away in asylums to deteriorate with no effective treatments.

Third, “average” is a mathematical construct. “Normal” is a statistical artifice that makes data easier to manipulate and understand by forcing it into a distribution (see Bell curve). And many neurodiverse folks (who I am not calling crazy) would argue that being average isn’t necessarily “better” than being an outlier. You may be of average intelligence, of average health, or have an average balance of brain chemistry. All this means is that, based on current measurement devices, techniques, and practices, you seem to align with a majority of the sampled population. Supermodels, world class athletes, and geniuses are examples of people who are not average – they are exceptional – outliers in respective areas (appearance, physical abilities, mental abilities, or creative perspectives). So, in effect, by seeking to discern who is “normal” and only associate yourself with them, you are excluding anyone who is exceptional – anyone who does not easily fit in with the (perceived) majority.

Myth #4: If you have mental illness or cognitive difficulties, you can’t accomplish goals. A.K.A., if you’re high-functioning, you have no mental or physical illnesses.

Crew Dog, onesickvet.com

To add to the Twitter example, in my own case, when I applied for VA disability, the interviewer told me I could not possibly have any cognitive impairment because I was in a doctoral program. End of story. He had made up his mind when he read in my application that I was in grad school. During the interview, he asked if I was still in grad school, and despite me listing the ways in which I was having difficulties, as soon as I affirmed that I was still (technically) in school (though making no progress), his mind was made up. (I subsequently had to withdraw from grad school due to cognitive difficulties.)

This misperception that high-achieving individuals, also known as high-performing or high-functioning, cannot also have mental or physical illnesses is patently false and absurd. See this article: “Now, at age 26, Claire manages to hold down a high-stress job as a legal office manager for a multimillion-dollar law firm despite battling not only a depressive disorder but also type 1 diabetes and kidney disease.”

High-functioning individuals face stresses just like less high-functioning individuals do, and either type can be prone to anxiety, depression, perfectionism, eating disorders or other illnesses, or unhealthy coping mechanisms such as substance abuse. (See this article, or this one.)

I am in no way implying that high-functioning individuals with mental illnesses are better than lower-functioning ones. I am simply pointing out that if you’re able to disguise your mental or physical disabilities, people choose to believe that they do not and cannot exist. Particularly if you are coping with a mental or physical disability and achieving as much as or more than your evaluator has, they refuse to believe you could possibly be ill.

Myth #5: Health (whether mental or physical) is static – it stays the same over time.

Crew Dog, onesickvet.com

People act as if healthy people will always be healthy and sick people will always be sick. While it’s true that chronically ill and permanently disabled people are highly likely to remain that way (barring new medical advances), it is also true that most humans are only temporarily abled. Additionally, it is also true that some chronic illnesses have periods of remission, and that chronic illness symptoms may come and go, or be stronger on one day but less impairing on another. And some people’s symptoms improve or disappear when they’re on the correct medications.

Even healthy people occasionally suffer from illnesses such as colds or the flu, and injuries such as sprains or broken bones. Health is not binary. No one is 100% healthy 100% of the time, and almost no one is 100% impaired. Health is a spectrum. And one’s position on the spectrum fluctuates. It is not static. You could even argue that we are all “health-fluid.”

Myth #6: People can completely control their physical and mental health.

Crew Dog, onesickvet.com

Most people, whether or not they are aware of them, operate under the influence of cognitive biases such as the Illusion of Control (“the tendency for people to overestimate their ability to control events”), or the Just-World Hypothesis (“the tendency for people to want to believe that the world is fundamentally just, causing them to rationalize an otherwise inexplicable injustice as deserved by the victim(s)”) to explain to themselves why some people (but not others) are ill or disabled, or to (falsely) reassure themselves that such things will not happen to them.

Acting according to, and in order to reinforce these biases, people will often blame chronically ill or disabled folks for their conditions, or (rudely) ask how their condition came about, hoping to confirm their biases. In the descriptive and powerful words of Elizabeth at Owning the Stars, what these people are, in effect, saying when they ask such questions is, “Please confirm for me that this was in some way your fault and not a horrible random piece of chance so that I can comfort myself by believing that this could never happen to me or someone I love.” 

Unfortunately, this is not how life works. People get hit by trucks (like Elizabeth did). Spouses get cancer and die. Healthy people who “do everything right” get Alzheimers. Bipolar disorder can be brought on by stress. Deteriorating health is pretty much a part of aging. And, to paraphrase Ecclesiastes, “Time and chance happen to [us] all.” Even if you’re physically and mentally “normal” now, it probably won’t stay that way. You are, at best, temporarily abled.

BOTTOMLINE: Instead of acting like people with chronic illnesses, disabilities, neurodiversity, or mental illnesses are abnormal and probably to blame for their conditions, instead of denying invisible illnesses or disabilities, consider the truth that nearly everyone is only temporarily abled. And just because someone became disabled more quickly than average doesn’t mean they’re lazy, faking, or inferior, or that they did something to deserve it. Consider how you’d like to be treated when you become chronically ill or disabled (typical conditions the elderly cope with include diabetes, failing eyesight, failing hearing, arthritis, and dementia). But don’t assume other people would want to be treated the same way you would – Ask chronically ill/disabled/neurodiverse/mentally ill people how they’d like to be treated.

Treat chronically ill/disabled people of all ages like people – because they are.

Tools for Your Health and Wealth Toolboxes//AKA My Thoughts on Some Current Discussions in the FIRE and Chronic Illness Communities

Definitions matter. Definitions and standards literally define and set standards so that we have a common understanding of words, concepts, or measurements. Definitions help us define what the meaning of “is” is, and standards standardize the exact measurement of a foot (12 inches).

Despite definitions and standards, however, there still remains confusion and lack of consensus on many topics. In the academic field of leadership study, for example, there is no agreed upon definition of leadership, nor is there a taxonomy, or agreed upon conceptual framework, for use in analyzing the topic.

In patient care, there is much ambiguity centering on pain measurement and management. This is certainly *not* helped by the widespread adoption for use with adult patients of a pain graphic designed for children. Particularly for adult patients with chronic pain, it is very oversimplified and imprecise (not to mention demeaning) to point to a frowny face to describe their pain.

This is why I now carry my own copy of a better pain chart with me to doctor’s appointments (see below): I can precisely define my anchors [which, I learned in academic training, is essential to having a valid scale (c.f. this)]. Plus, my pain is no longer subjective – I have submitted to my doctor an objective pain scale that precisely describes my current type and level of pain.

Comparative Pain Scale

In the area of personal finance, there is a great deal of debate about foundational issues such as the definitions of “retirement,” “financial independence,” and “early retirement.” Personally, I have adopted J.D. Roth’s Stages of Financial Freedom metric (see below), in which he describes six stages of financial freedom, ranging from Stage 0 “Dependence” (at which your lifestyle is dependent upon financial support from others) to Stage 6 “Abundance” (at which “Your passive income from all sources will not only fund your lifestyle indefinitely, but grant you the freedom to do whatever you want.”). [Technically, there are seven stages, but six of them are stages of independence, while the first stage is that of dependence – it doesn’t bother me that J.D.’s six stage model arguably has seven stages, but I acknowledge that point for those of you who will take issue with it.]

The Stages of Financial Freedom, by J.D. Roth

Currently, bloggers in the FIRE sphere are debating and trying to collate various definitions of financial freedom: FIRE, Barista FIRE, LeanFIRE, FatFIRE, Morbidly Obese FIRE, etc. Basically, the discussion (as I see it) is an attempt to quantify the range of income individuals are comfortable setting as a goal/achieving as annual income in retirement/early retirement.

While there can be utility in such an endeavor, particularly as a way to define income range without talking about specific personal finance numbers (i.e., “I am aiming for FatFIRE, which is generally accepted to mean at least $100,000/year income” rather than saying, “I currently make x number of dollars, and I plan to save 30x before I ‘retire'”), J.D.’s model really resonated for me, and I find it a useful tool for thinking about my behaviors and financial effects as well as those of others (much like the descriptions in the comparative pain scale are).

For example, some of us in the personal finance/FIRE sphere come from working-class backgrounds. As Kristy Shen explains in her recent book, Quit Like a Millionaire, one’s socioeconomic status as a child can affect one’s perspective on money and personal finance matters for the rest of one’s life. Additionally, as pointed out by several PF/FIRE POCs (persons of color), such as El Camino a FI and Revanche, having cultural expectations to support/assist some or all of one’s family members can make it much more difficult to advance through the stages of financial freedom.

In our case, Spousal Unit and I both came from working-class backgrounds and each felt obligated to help our parents and siblings financially. This has certainly had an impact on our advancement through J.D.’s Stages of Financial Freedom, and continues to impact us today. I would say that Spousal Unit and I are currently at Stage 5 “Independence” (helped, in large part, by a military pension). However, most of our family members remain somewhere between Stage 0 “Dependence” and Stage 2 “Stability.” In fact, most of them bob back and forth between Stage 1 “Solvency” and Stage 0 “Dependence,” despite our best efforts to help them achieve greater financial freedom.

Spousal Unit and I have spent considerable resources (time, money, vacation days, etc.) caring for our family members and attempting to help them improve their financial situations. But, over the years, we have grappled with the same questions I see raised by some of these other bloggers/podcasters:

“Where is the line between helping and enabling?” and “What do you do if the individual wants a handout, not a hand up?”

Crew Dog, One Sick Vet

One of our parents is currently at Stage 0 and seemingly has no interest in changing their behaviors. They are completely dependent on us and on their sister for basics like housing and transportation. We (including the sister) try not to enable them (for example, we give them gift cards to specific restaurants, stores, etc. rather than cash). But it can be very difficult not be resentful when you are playing the ant to some else’s grasshopper.

Anonymess made a comment on Revanche’s blog recently that I found very helpful: “Spouse and I have also given smaller amounts — $700-$1,500 — to family and friends. We have a rough policy: we’ll make the loan if we’re liquid enough at the time, and everyone “qualifies” for about $1,000 total. We let the borrower know that if they’re unable to repay us we’re happy to consider the money a gift, but if they do repay us, we’ll have the money to lend to them again.”

My takeaway from this is to establish boundaries that you (and your partner, if applicable) are comfortable with regarding money and “helping” others. Will you loan money to others? If so, whom? Anyone who asks? Only family? Close friends? Only people who will pay you back? Only people who are really trying to improve their situations? Only people who want/need the money for a really good reason? How much money will you lend? How long will they have to pay you back? Whatever you decide is appropriate for you becomes your boundaries.

I like Anonymess’s boundaries because they are specific: up to ~$1,000 per person, and if the money is repaid it is available to borrow again. Some other rules that many people use are never to loan more than they can afford to lose, never to count on being repaid, and never to co-sign a financial agreement for a less-credit-worthy individual.

The important part is to determine, before you are asked, what your boundaries are regarding helping family or friends financially, and then to establish and enforce those boundaries.

Crew Dog, One Sick Vet

Tough love doesn’t feel good for the person receiving it, and it doesn’t feel good for the person distributing it. But it is typically the difference between truly helping and enabling. It sounds harsh, but you have to put your own oxygen mask on first. Also, you can’t share what you don’t have. There are no loans for retirement; if you haven’t saved enough/accumulated enough assets, you’re screwed. And some people will use someone until they’ve bled them dry, and then they’ll move on to the next person, leaving desolation in their wake. Letting yourself be used (and possibly bankrupted) doesn’t actually help the other person become financially responsible, and it certainly doesn’t help you become more financially independent.

Please join the conversation. Have you been asked (or is it a cultural expectation) to help family members or friends financially? How has it affected/is it affecting your progression through the financial freedom stages? How do you deal with the feelings (yours and theirs)? Does your partner agree with your position on the issue or not? Have you established boundaries or found other tools, guidelines, or advice that has helped you? Should this and similar topics be acknowledged and discussed more frequently in the personal finance/FIRE space? How can the FIRE sphere encourage more diversity?

Or do you have something to say about pain scales or other helpful tools for dealing with chronic illness?

Please add your voice/perspective to the comments!

Status Update: Getting a New Roof

Another quick blog post today.

The house needed a new roof since (before) we bought it. It started actually leaking in February. Since then, water has leaked into the living room every time it rained substantially.

Getting a new roof has been an ordeal. There are fewer reliable roofers where we live than roofs that need repaired.

The roofing crew were here today doing a portion of the work. Actual bets are being made as to weather 😀 whether we will have a sound roof before hurricane Dorian moves through/past the area.

Never a dull moment.

Status Update: Fighting a Mortgage Refinance Battle

This is just a quick update to let y’all know that Spousal Unit & I are a bit busy at the moment.

We have been fighting a protracted battle with an incompetent loan team over a VA loan refinance (known as an IRRRL – Interest Rate Reduction Refinancing Loan).

And that has been taking all of my energy – hence the reason I have not been posting here on the blog.

[Yeah, hence!]

Rest assured that I will have a FULL blog post on the CF goat rope after the refinance is completed, which will include Lessons Learned.

Please standby for VA IRRRL AAR.

When Your Forever Home Isn’t: How Leveraging Money in Early Adulthood Helped Us Deal with Health Setbacks Later

A.K.A. Why We Moved From Colorado to Florida

On paper, moving to Colorado for retirement made a lot of sense. We’d lived there before and knew we liked it. We had friends who had retired from the military there. We had actual and potential job opportunities there. We could purchase acreage and grow some of our own food and raise some of our own livestock (chickens/ducks/a pig/maybe sheep).

So, after 9 months of looking, when we found the right Colorado house we bought it. We had five acres with amazing mountain views. Plenty of trees, but still some open land for a garden and a green house and some livestock. Country peace and quiet with easy access to town amenities. We were excited for all the things we would do.

And then I proceeded to get more ill than I’d ever been in my life. Orders of magnitude worse than when I’d “only” had chronic intractable migraines. I struggled to hold on to my goal of finishing my degree, and fought to get a diagnosis and a cure, but to no avail. Despite building a team of competent medical specialists in Colorado, I continued to get more ill and disabled. I often spent days or weeks on one story of our house because I didn’t have the energy or the knee capacity to go up and down the stairs. The scope of my life got smaller and smaller until I mostly lived in one room, leaving the house only to go to medical appointments. Spousal Unit handled all other interactions with the outside world.

When I finally realized that I might never find a cure, that I might never be restored to better health, I realized I might have to surrender not only my dreams of completing my degree and starting a new career, but also our dream of living in the Rockies. As I struggled to come to grips with my new reality, I eventually asked myself this key question:

Assuming my health will never improve, how do I want to live what remains of my life?

Crew Dog, One Sick Vet

I had been hung up on searching for a health cure; on finding a way to power through my dissertation and to complete my PhD; on fulfilling everyone’s expectations; on living up to my potential; on continuing to take care of others; on continuing to live a life of service.

But when I thought about accepting that my health had permanently changed, that, therefore, my life had permanently changed, it enabled me to consider possibilities.

I could continue to exist in limbo, frustrated that I was unable to complete my degree and pursue the career I had intended, or I could finally pry my bloody fingers loose from holding on to the end of my rope and get on with living my new life, my new normal.

It took *years* to relinquish those dreams and to accept that I was not going to be able to achieve those goals.

But when I started to consider other possibilities, when I started to consider accepting my limitations, I found freedom. Don’t get me wrong – the process of arriving at this destination was agonizing and included times when I didn’t see the point of continuing to live.

But I eventually discovered that accepting my limitations gave me permission to say no to other people’s expectations.

And once I stopped thinking I had to do what I thought I was supposed to do, I could start considering what I really wanted to do.

Eventually, I decided that I needed to leave Colorado to have any hope of improving my health. So we starting thinking about what we would want/need in a hypothetical new retirement location.

My joints hurt in Colorado, especially during the cold months. So I thought it’d be good if this hypothetical place was warmer. And my health seemed to improve when I was at lower altitudes, so this hypothetical place should probably be at a much lower altitude.

I asked myself what I would want my life to look like if all I could do was lie in bed all day. And I decided it would be pretty amazing if I could look out my window and see water. I asked myself what kind of outdoor exercise I’d like to do if I were capable of doing any. And I thought I’d like to walk on the beach, or walk/float in the water, or swim if I could. And I’d really love it if I could scuba dive again.

Spousal Unit & I weighed possibilities. And then we moved to a place that made far less sense on paper than Colorado. We’d never lived there. We did not have friends there. We did not have actual or potential job opportunities there. We couldn’t afford acreage there. And I would be starting all over building a new team of medical providers, leaving behind the really good team of providers I had slowly and carefully built in Colorado.

But this excellent team of Colorado healthcare providers had been unable to diagnose or cure me. The orthopedic surgeon had repaired my injuries and removed the associated pain. The rest of my team had provided the best care they knew. But my quality of life was continuing to diminish. I only left the house for doctor’s appointments, and I spent days afterward recovering. I had reached the point where I did not think I would survive another winter in Colorado.

So we sold our forever home in the dream location in the Colorado Rockies, and started all over again – in Florida.

It hasn’t been easy, and I can talk about that in another post. But I wanted to acknowledge that not everyone can afford to take such radical action, even if their lives depend on it.

Spousal Unit & I had the resources to be able to afford to start over again somewhere new. So many chronically ill/disabled people do not. We could talk in the comments about intersectionality, and the many ways in which I was disadvantaged in my youth, and the few ways in which I was not. But I readily admit that I was incredibly fortunate that Spousal Unit & I had already laid the groundwork for financial security before I became chronically ill/disabled. We are privileged that we had good health in our youth, adolescence, and young adulthood, and were able to attend and graduate college and get well-paying jobs. We were able to build a strong financial foundation. We were able to secure a military pension. Without this foundation, we would not have been able to move to our new location.

We’ve been here less than a year, but I already feel confident stating that my health is better in Florida. I still have a few days when I don’t get out of bed. I still have a lot of days when I don’t leave the house. But I rarely need the medications I was using almost daily for joint pain in Colorado. And I actually have energy some days. I’ve gone kayaking a few times (and spent days afterward recovering). And I’ve started scuba diving again.

Having the ability to leave a location where I had very low quality of life and move to a location where I have much better quality of life – to me, that’s what financial security is all about.

Crew Dog, One Sick Vet

Whether you call it FIRE, financial independence, financial freedom, financial security, enough, early retirement, or whatever: working hard, spending less than we earned, learning about investments, and saving for the future enabled us to leverage our health privilege in our youth to provide for ourselves when we were older and had lost that health privilege.

People who are born with congenital conditions or who develop chronic illnesses or become disabled before they have these opportunities do not have this health privilege. I cannot speak to their experiences, although I can acknowledge them.

What I can say is this: If you are considering learning about personal finance, if you are interested in developing financial security, add to your possible list of motivations the consideration that health is possibly the greatest privilege of all, and it may not last as long as you had hoped it would. People like to think it couldn’t/wouldn’t happen to them – until it does.

At best, we are temporarily abled – eventually our capacities will degrade. Being fiscally fit will help you prepare for when you are no longer physically fit.

Crew Dog, One Sick Vet

Have you had setbacks on your road to financial security? Have you made plans and then been thrown a curveball? Have you never had health privilege? How have you adapted? We’d love to hear about your experiences in the comments.

Programming Change Notice, in which I begin to discuss Personal Finance

To anyone who is reading: I just thought I’d let you know that the post content is going to expand here at One Sick Vet. Up until now, I have followed the advice of keeping my blog in a well-defined niche, but that feels too restrictive for me. And since I don’t have any reason to stay confined to the health/chronic illness niche, I’m going to expand my content and talk about other things that I think are important or interesting as well.

I think two of the most important aspects of life are managing your health and managing your money. To date, I have been talking about managing health. Although I have been a personal finance [PF] nerd for three decades, when I started this blog I didn’t think I had anything unique to contribute to the PF/FIRE [Financial Independence, Retire Early] blogosphere. But now I think that I do have a unique contribution to make, at the intersection of personal finance and health.

While talking about money is becoming less taboo (at least, in certain corners of the internet), talking about health and/or chronic illness and disability is not. So, I’m going to continue to blog about health, wellness, chronic illness, and disability, but I’m also letting my inner personal finance nerd loose to blog about money, and how financial security/insecurity affects health & wellness, and vice versa. I hope you’ll join me.

TL;DR: I am expanding the content of my blog, and will now be blogging at the intersection of health and personal finance.

A Thing That You Know: Developing New Skills

I just gave Spousal Unit a haircut. Not a big deal – I’ve been cutting Spousal Unit’s hair for about 18 years.

But, there was a time when I was intimidated by that task. I was hesitant to try, because I was afraid I’d screw it up. Not because I’m afraid to try new things, but because how one’s hair looks is a big deal to most people, and no one wants to live with an angry spouse while it’s growing back.

Even though Spousal Unit had suggested I try it, I avoided cutting Spousal Unit’s hair *until* the day Spousal Unit came home with a bad haircut, to put it baldly (see what I did there?). I looked at that haircut and thought, “I can’t do any worse than *that*!” And so I began cutting Spousal Unit’s hair.

Now, there weren’t any YouTube videos back then on how to cut hair. So I just went for it.

And by that, I mean I nervously trimmed away small amounts until we both agreed I had done enough. The first couple of haircuts were not stellar. But they weren’t as bad as “The Bad Haircut” that prompted me to try it myself. And after a rocky start, the haircuts got better and better. I don’t do anything fancy, but I get the job done.

Spousal Unit likes the convenience and the amount of money we have saved on haircuts over the years. There was a small initial outlay for scissors, etc., and we have replaced items a few times, but we have saved substantial amounts ($$$) over the nearly 20 years I have been cutting Spousal Unit’s hair.

And yet, there are many folks unwilling to try to learn how to do things themselves, especially cutting their significant other’s hair! In the frugal community, it’s often called “insourcing” labor/services, rather than “outsourcing” them. Older (*ahem*) folks often call it DIY (Doing It Yourself).

No one is good at something the very first time they try it – it takes practice to become as good as experienced folks.

Crew Dog, One Sick Vet

This reminds me of a time when we were out to dinner with another couple, and Spousal Unit and I were making short work of a pile of crab legs. The wife of the other couple asked me when I’d learn how to crack crab legs. I couldn’t remember, and I blithely said something to the effect of “I don’t know. It’s something I’ve always known.” But that’s not accurate.

Here’s what I wish I’d said: “I don’t remember when I learned how to crack crab legs. I obviously didn’t eat them when I was a child [because we were dirt poor, and ate things like Hamburger Helper]. Somewhere along the way, it’s a skill that I picked up. I’m sure I looked silly doing it at first. But now I do it with a level of skill that looks intimidating to you. And it’s become so easy for me that I can’t even remember when and how I first learned how to do it. But that shouldn’t stop you from trying. Because you’ll get better at it with practice. And pretty soon it’ll just be a thing that you know how to do.”

Doug Nordman shared with me recently that a technique that helped his daughter overcome apprehension about trying things/taking a new course of action (when she was younger) was to ask her “If you did that, what’s the worst thing that could possibly happen?” Once they troubleshot various courses of action, she was comfortable proceeding with her chosen one.

That’s basically what I did before I started cutting Spousal Unit’s hair. I asked myself (and Spousal Unit) what the worst outcome could be, and we agreed that the worst I could do was a bad haircut, and that the hair would, eventually, grow back. Spousal Unit was ok with that worst case scenario, even though it might mean sporting a bad haircut at work. After all, I couldn’t do any worse than “The Bad Haircut” Spousal Unit had received from a paid professional.

And so it began. If you asked Spousal Unit about it, you’d receive this reply: “Yeah, the first couple haircuts were a bit rough. They weren’t that great. But after those first few, they’ve been good ever since, and we’ve saved a lot of time and money.”

What is something you’d like to learn how to do, but may have been intimidated? Are there videos you can watch to learn skills and techniques? Or books you could check out from the library? Do you know someone skilled who could teach you? Or is it something you could learn how to do through trial-and-error? Why not start developing your DIY skills? Sooner than you think, whatever it is you wanted to learn will transform from something you were apprehensive to try into a thing that you know how to do.

P.S. – In case you were wondering, Spousal Unit eventually took the plunge and started cutting my hair too. That doesn’t happen on the regular, but Spousal Unit does a really good job (most of the time). So now cutting hair is a thing we both know how to do.

Back in the Saddle Again…

February 2014 I slipped and fell while on a scuba vacation, and it took 5 surgeries over the next 4+ years to repair the damage done to my arm – 2 shoulder surgeries, 2 wrist surgeries, and one elbow surgery [You can read about them here, here, here, and here.

December 2018 I finally dove again – just a short skills refresher dive. News Flash – I was rusty. But it was great to be back in the water again after nearly five years.

Fourth of July weekend 2019 I made another dive. Again a short shore dive. But this time I felt much more comfortable under the water.

This week, Spousal Unit and I are boat diving. It feels great to be back in the water again. We made two dives today, and so far my ears are cooperating (meaning I have been able to equalize the pressure in my ears throughout the ascents and descents during the dives). My ears don’t equalize as effortlessly as they used to, so we take our time descending from and ascending to the surface.

Before we dove today, I did physical therapy stretches and exercises and some very light therapeutic yoga. Post-dive tonight, I have a heating pad on my back. Getting older ain’t for sissies.

But I am very grateful just to be able to dive again. Scuba is something Spousal Unit and I really enjoy doing, and we have been diving together for over twenty years. It would have been a great loss if we were no longer able to dive together.

I have to pace myself – we aren’t doing much else on days we are diving. I prep for our dives with the exercises and stretches, we eat a healthy meal in our travel trailer, make a couple dives, and then come back to our trailer, hang our gear out to dry, take showers, cook a simple meal, and relax on the heating pads while logging our dives.

I may be doddering along. I may accept help from the boat staff to lift my gear on and off the boat (which I never would have done when I was younger and healthier). I may not be eating and drinking in restaurants and seeing the topside sights. But I’m here.

And I am willing to do whatever is necessary in order to be able to keep diving with Spousal Unit. I hope we have many more decades of diving together.

And I appreciate, in a way I never did before, that being able to dive is a privilege. Even if you set aside the costs involved, many people don’t enjoy sufficient health to be able to dive. For nearly five years, I didn’t have sufficient health to be able to dive.

So I’m going to enjoy every dive I get, and I’m going to do whatever it takes to be able to keep diving with my favorite buddy.