Have you ever had so much to process that you felt numb? I just made it past the two-month mark of my stroke, and while there’s much to celebrate, so many other significant life events have happened that I’m having trouble being able to feel any of it.

Three weeks ago, we lost our beloved cat, Cuddles. Before him, I didn’t know someone could feel so intensely for a cat. I love animals in general, but Cuddles was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of gift. He died in my arms on a rainy afternoon, surrounded by everyone who loved him most.

I rescued Cuddles at the best of times, and he was with me through the hardest years of my life. He often knew when I was going to have a severe attack and meow at me until I sat down, jumping up on my lap to keep me put. When I was in agony from muscle pains, he’d lay next to or on top of wherever was causing the problem. We were connected.

Todd carried him around the house like you would a newborn baby, and Cuddles loved it. He preferred to eat when we ate, stopping for awhile each morning to stare at the door when Todd walked out for work, hoping he’d return. He always greeted us at the door and only wanted to go outside if we were out. Visitors loved him, and he ate up thier attention.

Endlessly patient with the children, Cuddles would snuggle with us for story time each night. After the kids went to bed, he couldn’t wait until Todd and I were close enough that he could lay, touching us both. We thought we had many more years to enjoy him, but after a long illness that refused to be cured, our love made us end his suffering.

My mom was there and had to watch the scene unfold. The vet had been kind enough to spare Cuddles one last panic attack to go to his office. I was sobbing uncontrollably. Todd and the kids were crying too. I still cant think of Cuddles without tears.

Mom was there too when each class of the entire student body of Ella’s elementary school performed a Polynesian-themed dance. More emotions that day. First, anxiety at the massive crowd. Then embarrassment when the vice principal told me I was in the wrong restricted area and had to squeeze my huge awkward power chair between two tight rows. But once settled? Gratitude. Awe. Celebration to see an incredible display of cultures I would never have seen on the mainland.

Soon after, my firstborn graduated elementary school. As I watched Ella walk across the stage in her beautiful dress and first pair of kitten heels, I froze. I couldn’t process. Every single teacher, healthcare provider and adult who’d invested into her life helped get her here. Some became dear friends. Todd knows everything I’m thinking. For once, I had extended family with me, giving leis like everyone else. Joy overflowing.

My brother was visiting Hawaii for the first time. Though I’d seen him a handful of times on the mainland, it had been almost four long years without seeing my sister-in-law, nephews and niece. The kids had the best time together and the adults did too. I pushed too hard to go on handicap-accessible excursions, but the physical price was worth paying. I was just glad to be able to do it after six weeks solid in bed.

Every time I’m with my extended family, I get an identity crisis. Maybe a lot of people feel this way? One thing I know for sure: my love of cleaning, organizing and decorating comes from a select few in my family tree. But why am I so sensitive? And most of all: why did I hit the genetic-defect lottery?

Suspecting I was incorrectly diagnosed to have Mast Cell Activation Syndrome (MCAS), my immunologist believes based on clinical symptoms and recent bloodwork that I have lupus. Those who do, are also 8x more likely to have a stroke than your average person. Bingo. A rheumatologist has to make the final determination. I’m on steroids in the meantime to make life more bearable.

The pain and swelling in my hands has come and gone for years. But recently it became so severe I couldn’t pick up anything and laid awake at night for hours. The “butterfly rash” on my cheeks can get so hot it feels someone is actively burning my cheeks with a curling iron. It seems all the symptoms that didn’t fit with my muscular dystrophy are on the lupus list. Could I really have One. More. Thing?