I’m writing this in my deer blind on a gorgeous sixty-degree evening, hoping the deer don’t mind the motocross racers practicing loudly on the other side of this tree line. 
I have more news, but I will save that for next time.

Happy December!
Carey

Oh and check out my Etsy shop, we have some new products from my days of photographing on the farm, especially this new mask!

Some of you may be surprised and some may feel it’s a given.

I was addicted to narcotics.  I didn’t know it until I stopped taking them.  My body was addicted eight weeks into my recovery.   That fast.  I was probably addicted sooner than that and had no idea.

Why did I stop taking them? 

I wasn’t feeling the “high” that everyone talks about.  I felt severe vertigo.  The kind where I couldn’t lift my head from my pillow on my hospital bed located in my living room.  I was unable to turn my head left or right without walls spinning. 

  I felt that something was inside of me, shredding the walls of my stomach with sharp claws.  Gnawing, rummaging and finding nothing, gnawing more.   That made me vomit or dry heave as I spoke to loved ones on the phone.   I would swing the phone away from my mouth, so they couldn’t hear my soft gags, but I could still listen without ending our conversation.

These narcotics caused me immense discomfort, but lessened my pain, to an extent. My surgeon told my husband when I was released that I would still be in pain, but all we could do was hope I didn’t remember it. For months I was on the heavy hitters. Oxycontin, Oxycodone, Vistaril, Flexeril, Valim, Neurontin and Norco. AT THE SAME TIME! Plus my husband had to administer Lovenox injections into my mid section nightly.

The bad days, the most difficult days came through.  Those I remember vividly.  Those days keep me humble today.

How did I know I was addicted? 

Irritable, sweating, then the shakes.  Even through my delirium I knew what was happening to me.  I told my husband I was having withdrawals and it would be a few days before I was “normal” again.

In my mind I was being proactive.   Telling myself as soon as I could stand the pain, I was going to stop taking them.  My body made the decision for me.   Calling my surgeon, I explained everything.  Telling him I couldn’t take all this medicine any longer, but I could barely exist without it.   His decision was to let me decide.  Calling me in a less powerful narcotic and allowing me to make decisions on when to use the “hard stuff”.

It was the worst kind of awful there was.  I lived with it.  The pain.  The side effects of the medicines were competing with the pain of my injuries.

  How could it get worse?

 I rode it out in waves, every day.  As months passed, I would look back, just as my surgeon suggested and could see where I was and how far I had come.  That is what kept me pushing forward and the fact that as our four children walked in the door from the bus each afternoon, they would be the highlight of my days. 

Working in the medical field I knew, I saw this happen to others.  Real injuries, real pain that led to addiction.  I knew I would never be that person…………until I was.

I am fortunate that the side effects leave an undesirable hold on me.  Many are not as fortunate.  For a couple of years after I stopped ingesting them routinely, I would take one at bedtime if I couldn’t knock the demon of pain back to where I could handle it.  I allowed myself three nights of this and wouldn’t take a pill on the fourth.  Even after all this time, my body desired this drug.  Stopping on the fourth night caused me to sit in my recliner with jitters, restless leg syndrome, unable to focus and I knew completely if I went to my pill bottle, I could make it stop.

I suffered, prayed my way through it, eventually deciding it wasn’t worth the consequences of taking those bastards.  Now I do everything I possibly can do ease my pain without them.  Sometimes waiting too long and paying the price, but I will not go back there.  I will sit full time in a wheelchair before I shove those down my throat daily.

I can fill a script for sixty pills a month if I want to.  I believe I’ve picked up sixty in the last two years, only by choice. 

I am so real.  I am so humbled.  I know exactly who I am and what I am capable of.  This experience has taught me that.  In my low moments I remind myself of that.  There are times I must be gentle with myself and there are others that I scream and demand more of my courage and commitment. 

It has been quite some time since my husband has created a spread sheet for my medicines, placed cups with filled with pills and times of when they should be administered on our kitchen counter.  Gone are the days of setting alarms for those same pills.  I couldn’t do it on my own in the beginning, but I am a different woman now.  My head is clear, I know my path and I am Stronger than Yesterday.

What I didn’t expect was the unbelievable hospitality and feel of this community.  What I also didn’t expect was to give three school presentations and be asked to give a faith presentation for the community.   At this point there was nothing that was going to keep me from traveling to their neck of the woods. 

I am not asked to speak openly about how my faith played a major role in my recovery to often,  even though many say they can hear it or feel it.  I love speaking about my faith,  that is the entire reason I am traveling the country riding on an emotional roller coaster!  God kept putting it out there for me to hear and when I was ready, I grudgingly accepted.  Now you can’t get me to stop!

Having a home cooked meal with the FFA officers of Riverdale High School and faculty was amazing.  Like the food was Uh-Maz-Ing.  Miss Casey is known for her glorious dishes.  All three school presentations were intimate.  Small school districts mean I am up close and personal during the assembly.  Eyes meeting eyes.  Head nods and of course tears.  It’s not that I intend to make people cry, but they feel what I feel when describe the details of our family’s situation. 

The presentation that would not allow me to sleep though was the evening community faith presentation.  We were so close that I didn’t even use a microphone. I was on an emotional high anyway and with speaking about my faith, I knew I was going to be a hot mess. 
After answering questions, it was asked if they could pray over me.  Something I used to feel entirely awkward about because no one had ever done this for me until after my crash.  Today I welcome it and use each and every prayer I receive.  I walked down from the stage and stood by the lovely woman who asked.  What I did not anticipate was that within seconds every person would move from their seat and surround me.  

I put my hands on my mouth and told her I thought I might lose it.  Everyone had a hand on another person’s shoulders and when she laid her hand on mine we were all connected as one.  That moment, that small moment when I felt the warmth, energy and overall comfort come from this group through her hand was something I had never experienced before.  Guess what happened next.   Yes, I lost it. 

Immediately.  The kind where huge crocodile tears, hot as my bath water streamed down my cheeks.  I did that thing that women do when they can’t control their emotions.  I tried to catch my breath and instead of one nice long suck inwards it was four short clipped breaths and my chest heaved so big that I think it hit my chin. 
Before long I didn’t know if they wetness on my lips from was the floodgates of my eyes or snot running out of my nose!  Not kidding.  It was the BEST experience ever.

You should probably watch this video prior to reading this blog post to understand where I am coming from. Watching this a few days ago brought up emotions I thought I had dealt with. Realizing pretty quickly I hadn’t dealt with them, I just stuffed them down into a dark place without working through them.

I quietly use Justine Froelker’s tools to help me grow as an individual, leader and speaker. I don’t share with her like I should, how often her wisdom as a Licensed Professional Counselor and a Certified Daring Way, Dare to Lead Facilitator help me understand and change perspective.

I, too, have had a miscarriage. Your situation doesn’t need to replicate this one, it is just what unearthed my feelings.

My pregnancy tests don’t show positive until I’m seven weeks along even though I am pretty certain I am pregnant. At eight weeks, during my second pregnancy, I started having “that pain” and then got the tell-tale sign that something was definitely wrong. Then I saw it, my embryo in the bottom of the toilet stool. Fifteen minutes later, my right side, exactly where my ovary was located, had some intense pinpoint pain. Was this normal with a miscarriage? Calling my GYN and immediately getting the answer of, No this wasn’t normal and to get to the office as soon as I could, sent me into a whirlwind of silent emotions.

I never act out, always in. It turns out I had a 2 1/2 inch Dermoid tumor on my right ovary and I heard the words, “We are going to try to save your ovary, but the tumor is very large. We also need to perform and D & C since you were eight weeks into your pregnancy.” This is the first surgery I had ever had. I did not respond well to the anesthesia.

Once at home the “gas” from the surgery decided to get trapped under my diaphragm. I was in physical pain and emotionally was lost. I felt sorrow over a child I had never met, but wanted. I felt it was a boy. I just knew.

Three days prior to Mother’s Day, I entered and left the hospital. My ovary was saved, I would always have hormonal difficulties and should wait three months before trying to conceive again. I was struggling with what I was feeling inside.

This person that I was counting on, trying to convey these feelings inside of my heart and mind to, couldn’t understand why I was sad over the loss of something that was basically just tissue and not a real child yet. I am a calm griever, I rarely act dramatically over anything. I just wanted to talk about it, get it out of me to someone who I thought would understand.

I was told to, “get over it.” Twenty-four hours hadn’t even passed yet. I stuffed it away. Why was I feeling shame for this? Why was I being judged for how I felt? I was young, hadn’t much experience with life and hadn’t learned to believe in my worth yet. I didn’t speak up, I closed up. That way it wouldn’t hurt as much, right?

Sunday morning I was made to feel it was horrible to skip Mother’s day. Shame came at me again. You could shame or guilt me into anything at this point in my life. I dressed and attended. Pings of pain hitting me in my right lower side, walking stiffly, desperately trying to hold in my discomfort. I could feel the distaste build for this person close to me. Why couldn’t this person understand? What is wrong with ME? Why couldn’t I speak up more loudly?

I didn’t understand that I could give myself permission to ask for what I wanted and needed. I sure didn’t understand that I could expect it! I always accepted and settled.

Currently I would know I need boundaries from this type of person, that it is okay to distance myself or voice what “I” think and feel, but back then, no, back then I was clueless. What happened was I lost my trust in this person. It wasn’t the first situation like this, just the one that hurt my heart the most.

We’ve most likely all had that one relationship/friendship where the other person didn’t step up or never stepped up the way we think they should. Never stepped up the way that we did for them, correct? Why do we let that person make us feel shamed or judged? The way we feel is the way we feel. We have that right.

Feeling that is our fault. Ours and ours alone. We are the only ones who can give someone the permission to affect us. We feel shame because we allow it. I worked on “ME” after that and after working with that person and finally accepting a non-change attitude, I ended our relationship. I had lost friendships prior, but due to just losing contact, never intentionally.

It has taken me a long time to begin to understand shame and that I don’t have to accept it unless I have done something that I should feel shameful for. Since revisiting this situation, I am done with it. I have purged that buried resentment I didn’t know I still carried. That person was incapable of being who I wanted and didn’t want to be capable at that time. It is okay. It hurt and I learned from it. I accept it as part of life’s many lessons that have been handed to me. Some taste more bitter as you swallow them, but learning is the point. If you don’t learn, then it’s just an open would that never heals, right?

So when are you going to tackle your lesson?

https://www.justinefroelker.com/

Many are handmade from school projects, others have photos inserted of them as an infant, others with their names printed on them in glitter. When our children are old enough, have a family of their own, I plan to give them their childhood ornaments to share with their children.

They can share the stories behind them, reminiscence of who did or did not want to help decorate. Stories of who looked in their stockings first, stories of searching the house for presents not yet wrapped or even unwrapping corners to just get a glimpse of what they could possibly have been gifted from us!

Three of our children are now in college. Significant others are invited for holiday gatherings and even a marriage on the way. Our family dynamics have changed as our family has grown. Grown through the best and most difficult of times.

One thing will never change, one thing can never be taken away and that is the memories we’ve made by placing these specific ornaments on our tree each year . They always bring a smile to my face and make my heart swell at the unwavering love we share.

Choose to make this next year yours, one filled with happy memories.

Happy 2019!

https://www.etsy.com/shop/PortellsPlace?ref=seller-platform-mcnav

March 27, 2018. “AgrAbility”

By: Nick Velazquez

Trenton FFA Chapter

Advanced Division

Carey loves to feed her cows. There was a time when feeding the cows was just part of a day’s work and wasn’t something she put much thought into. It was just one of the chores. But Carey doesn’t take feeding the cows for granted anymore. In fact, she looks forward to it and she is thankful for the opportunity. You see, Carey has some serious disabilities. The kind of disabilities that could easily keep her from doing what she loves, farming and ranching. She knows how fortunate she is to be able to farm, to check cows, feed grain, and even help harvest hay. Thankfully for Carey, a short conversation with a University of Missouri extension rep at a Women in Ag conference in 2014 led her to make a phone call to the Missouri AgrAbility project.  As Carey puts it, “That was the best call I could have made for myself.” (Portell, 2016).

On December 29^th, 2010, Carey Portell and her two children were in a serious car accident caused by a drunk driver. Luckily, Carey’s children weren’t seriously injured, but the same could not be said for her. Among various injuries, the worst were her broken pelvis and nearly shattered ankles. She spent the next four years in recovery, with eleven surgeries to help get her back on her feet. Obviously, it wasn’t easy. The slow and painful recovery took a toll on her, physically and mentally. As she got better, she thought more and more about how she could help out on the family’s 120 head cow-calf farm, near St. James, Missouri. She believed there was a way she could contribute. After meeting with officials from the Missouri AgrAbility project, Carey’s dream to continue working on the farm in a meaningful way became a reality.

There is good chance that right about now you are asking yourself, “What exactly is this AgrAbility project”? That’s a fair question, because many people, even those of us involved in the ag industry, haven’t heard of this program. In short, the Missouri AgrAbility project “is about creating success in agriculture, employment, and rural life for people with disabilities and their families” (University of Missouri, 2018). The AgrAbility project establishes a collaborative effort between the Cooperative Extension Service at a land-grant university with nonprofit disability organizations to provide education, assistance and training to help farmers, ranchers, and rural Americans continue their independence (University of Missouri, 2017).  The program identifies a disability as “a physical or mental impairment that substantially limits major life activities” (National AgrAbility Project, 2018) The AgrAbility project helps farmers with a wide range of disabilities; things like arthritis, blindness, back pain, heart conditions and much more. The beauty of the AgrAbility project is that it can reach people anywhere through its grassroots structure. Many states across the nation have similar projects, all of which are overseen by the USDA National Institute of Food and Agriculture (National AgrAbility Project, 2018).

The phone call Carey made to the Missouri AgrAbility project came at the perfect time. Carey was ready to become more involved on the farm; helping the family cattle operation gave her purpose and motivation. Shortly after making contact with the Missouri AgrAbility project, representatives of the program visited her farm to observe her everyday chores and began an assessment of ways the AgrAbility project could help her. These specialists showed Carey safer ways to complete her chores on the farm. They showed her how to position herself when feeding cattle, where to park the truck to keep cattle from coming towards her from both sides, and even discussed ways to roll under the truck to avoid being trampled if she was to fall down (Geist, 2015). Carey was able to care for the family’s cattle again, but she had to learn to manage in a new way.

The next step for many people involved in the AgrAbility project is to update equipment which allows them to operate more safely. Typically, AgrAbility staff will help connect farmers and ranchers with a local Vocational Rehabilitation program for equipment and other services (Geist, 2015). That equipment could range from easy-to-handle gate latches, lifts on tractors or combines to make entering the cab easier, and even motorized wheelchairs. If a farmer or rancher qualifies for financial assistance through the AgrAbility project, all the necessary paperwork must be filed with the local Vocational Rehabilitation program and with the AgrAbility staff. Though the AgrAbility project does not fund equipment directly, they help set you up with programs that do provide funding for disability assistance (University of Missouri, 2018). Once qualified, the purchase of equipment will be arranged and sent directly to the individual.

In Carey’s case, she was able to receive a Polaris Ranger UTV, or as she calls it, her “little masterpiece” (Portell, 2016). Her little masterpiece comes with a grain feeder in the bed to help her feed and care for her cattle. This UTV is a game changer. Carey never has to exit the UTV while feeding her cattle, doesn’t run the risk of getting bumped by cows, and doesn’t have to worry about tripping or falling due to rough terrain. All Carey does is pull up along the bunk, hit the switch for the grain feeder, and drive down the bunks. Before receiving assistance from the AgrAbility project, Carey tried lifting buckets and bags of feed, but she often fell or couldn’t keep cattle out of her way. The AgrAbility Project found a better way; a way that lets Carey continue to do what she loves.

Sadly, Carey is not alone in our industry. It is estimated that between 1.1 and 2.2 million individuals in the US agricultural population are living with a disability that affects their daily living (University of Missouri, 2018). That’s a staggering figure. But out of those nearly 2 million, only about 200,000 are enrolled in a state or national AgrAbility program (USDA/NIFA, 2015). That means there are a lot of farmers, ranchers, and folks living in rural areas that are missing out on education, training, and resources that could help improve their situation. Sure, maybe there are some that aren’t interested in getting involved, but I would bet that many of them have no idea this program exists, just like Carey. The best part is that there are other success stories from all across the US that we can be sharing to bring this life-saving program into the spotlight.

I have seen firsthand how debilitating a disability can be. Nearly two years ago, my mom’s life was flipped completely upside down. She had made the choice to get a lumbar fusion, which is a spinal surgery that joins two or more vertebrae together. Doctors had told my mom that this was the best possible option to fix her back issues, and to this date, almost two years later, she hasn’t felt the slightest bit better. In fact, she may have gotten worse. This intense surgery that we hoped would help my mom get back to a normal life has glued her to a chair, and she may never be able to do the job she loves again. Unfortunately my mother does not qualify for AgrAbility, as she is a nurse for the elderly, but amazing programs like AgrAbility give us hope. AgrAbility gave Carey hope. AgrAbility gives over 200,000 Americans in agriculture the opportunity to continue a life they love, pursuing a passion that can never be crushed. That is AgrAbility…it’s about hope.

****He attended the Missouri State FFA Convention where I was able to give my presentation, but unfortunately we did not meet. Later he wrote a beautiful note to me:

Carey,
Among the almost 10,000 FFA members out of the entire state convention, I was your biggest fan. Unfortunately I missed your workshop, and we didn’t get a chance to meet, but who knows! Maybe we will cross paths once again. I loved your speech. Once again your inspiring story left me teary eyed; it felt as if I had known you forever. Your quotes about finding purpose Spoke to me as a junior in high school, and inspired me to stay motivated. Hearing you at convention brought me back to the reason I wanted to use your story. To bring you up to speed, I was an alternate with my AgrAbility speech at the district level, but got to attend state to be a media consultant. Learning about you became my life for over 3 months, and I would love to share what I had created with you. I don’t have a digital copy to send currently, but will get it to you around Monday. Carey, you were the backbone of my speech, as well as one of the many strong backbones involved in the agrability project. Thank you; it truly has been an honor.
Your friend,
Nick Velazquez

Since we have last spoken, Nick’s words and passion have spoken to someone close to him, to make a change in their life. 

Some people ask How I can speak about my recovery, this is just one of the many reasons.   Something good, something positive, is always in the midst of something awful IF you choose to allow it. 

Trenton FFA Facebook

https://www.facebook.com/pages/biz/Trenton-FFA-Chapter-283612668649350/

Works Cited

“About AgrAbility.” AbrAbility, University of Missouri, 2018, agrability.missouri.edu/about.asp.

“Frequently Asked Questions.” AgrAbility Organization, National AgrAbility Project, 2018, www.agrability.org/faqs/agrability-org/.

Geist, Linda. “St. James Cattle Producer Learns ‘New Normal’ through AgrAbility Program.” The Rolla Daily News, The Rolla Daily News – Rolla, MO, 22 Nov. 2015, www.therolladailynews.com/article/20151122/NEWS/151129782.

“National Institute of Food and Agriculture.” AgrAbility – A Program That Works! , USDA National Institute of Food and Agriculture, 15 Jan. 2015, nifa.usda.gov/resource/agrability-program-works.

Portell, Carey. “How AgrAbility & Vocational Rehab Keep Me Safe While Working on the Farm.” Stronger than Yesterday, Blogspot, 18 Apr. 2016, careyportell.blogspot.com/2016/04/how-agrability-vocational-rehab-keep-me.html.

I found myself entering Aldi by chance one day in December, only because I was near. I had not planned this trip so my grocery bags were not in hand, but i only needed a few items. I carried my box of juices, some paper plates and forks for the basketball team dinner, a last minute stocking stuffer and a jar of feta stuffed olives that my tummy couldn’t pass up.
Depositing my items in the belt to be scanned with zero problems, I hear the cashier ask if I wanted to purchase a bag. Thought about it and decided against it because I had just walked down the aisles with no problems and I already had a ton of bags at home, I politely declined.
My items were not stacked exactly as I had them previously, but it was a short walk to the truck. I walked through the automatic doors, turned to my left and the heavy wind hit the oversized Reese’s stocking stuffer and blew it right off of my stack of items.

Without a thought in my head, I knelt down to retrieve it and then wondered how I was going to get back up. Here’s the thing with having three major joints fused. You just don’t work like you used to. I don’t believe my fused pelvis was that much of an issue, but by George those bilaterally fused ankles sure were. I have a hard enough time rising from the ground with no items in my hands, I couldn’t believe I’d made such a silly mistake.
Using all of the strength that I had, I pushed my knees in towards each other and pushed upwards. It was more than slightly awkward and as I rose with my blood rushed face of exertion, the cashier looked at me strangely.

Turning again to leave the doors opened and that blasted wind took the box of lightly weighted forks. To the floor I knelt again. This time I was close enough to the glass wall that I leaned my left shoulder up against it and shimmied my way to standing again. Turning to the automatic door the wind took the paper plates this time. Every curse word that I’ve ever learned was said in my head all at the same moment. Again close to the wall, there was a small part of the frame between the glass windows that I hooked my left elbow on and pushed like heck and got myself to standing again. With complete physical and emotional exhaustion I glanced to my right and the cashier was in complete awe of what was happening in front of her. Her looked of complete confusion was nearly humorous had I been able to feel any humor at all at that point.

With my arms wrapped around the items and my neck and chin holding the items down I head out into the cursed wind. Was it really this windy when I arrived? Twenty yards to the truck. Ten feet in, the blast of air took the Reese’s and the plates. Glancing from those items to the truck, I judged the distance from the curb to the truck wondering if anyone would steal my items before I returned, I decided to drop the other items to the curb. In the process of attempting to sit on the curb with my stupid grocery items and cry in Aldi’s parking lot, a gentlemen came to me and said, ” I see you are having some trouble today.” Only a little, partner, I thought.

He helped me to my feet and stacked my items for me. As I placed my items in the back seat, I asked God, why when the last few weeks had been so challenging, so messed up and painful due to a medication mix up, why would He choose now to teach me some sort of lesson. So I asked just that! “What possible lesson am I supposed to learn from this and why today?” The answer came quickly and bluntly.
He said, ” You should have just bought the bag Carey.”