Wind Warnings | Fire Horse | The Week of Many Phone Calls
✶ Welcome to The Crippled Cryptid: Saturday Health Updates ✶
This is your gentle heads up before we begin.
These posts talk openly about chronic illness, disability, medical trauma, hospital visits, symptoms, and the unfiltered reality of living in a body that doesn’t always cooperate. Some weeks are soft reflections. Some weeks are heavier. Please check in with yourself before reading and come back when you’re in the right headspace.
No one will ever judge you for skipping a post here.
If you’re new here, hi. I’m Sky.
Professional cryptid.
Unwilling amateur cyborg.
Occasional chronic illness and disability advocate.
Medically complex enough to make my chart look like a horror anthology.
I cope with sarcasm, stubborn hope, whatever snacks survived the week, and a concerning amount of coffee. (Don’t tell my cardiologist.)
Most days are lived in a haunted meat suit with a questionable warranty and a long-standing feud with my nervous system. I spend a lot of time in Bed Jail™, but I’m rarely alone thanks to Luna, my medical alert service dog.
Guardian. Enforcer. Tiny chaos gremlin with a medical degree she absolutely awarded herself.
Currently in Diaper Baby Mode™.
There’s also M&M.
My Player 2. My steady ground. The one who shows up with ginger ale, soup, and the kind of quiet strength that keeps the world from tilting when my body decides to cause a scene. She gives the 90% when I only have 10%, and she folds the best homemade crab rangoons known to humankind.
This space is for chronic illness without inspiration porn.
Disability without apologies.
Honesty without pretending it’s always tidy.
There will probably be dog hair involved.
Welcome back to the Lunatic Café.
The EEG That Caught Nothing
I made it through another week.
No seizures. No ambulance appearances. No dramatic plot twists.
I think I deserve a round of applause honestly because with the way things have been going lately, I’m sure you were expecting another bruise that comes with its own zipcode and tax brackets.
The EEG results came back. The episodes aren’t epileptic.
Which is technically good news.
But if you’ve done the chronic illness carousel long enough, you know that “everything looks normal” can feel like standing in an empty hallway waiting for someone to tell you where to go next.
Answers bring direction.
Direction brings movement.
I don’t want something to be wrong. I just want something to make sense.
So, I called the neurologist’s office to ask the question we all know too well: Okay… so what now?
Welcome to The Week of Many Phone Calls.
We kind of hate it here because it also became the week of zero answers.
The week that I decided I think I’m looking for new doctors.
The week I realized I like it better when all of my doctors operate out of bigger hospitals. At least then they talk to each other. They communicate. Right now? They don’t.
And I suffer for it.
A lot.
Wind Warnings & Watchful Skies
Illinois decided to flirt with spring this week. We hit the 50s. Even 60 once or twice. Suspicious behavior for February.
I’ve been calling it False Spring: Act 1 because if you know Illinois, you know it does this. It will do this at least two more times. I’m trying not to be fooled. Trying not to turn off the heat and throw the windows open. Trying to remember that it can still snow at Easter here. Sometimes after.
But it’s hard to remember that when the grass is visible, there’s no snow on the ground, it’s 60 degrees, and the dog wants to play in the yard.
Very, very hard.
The pressure swings and temperature drama have also brought fire and wind warnings across Chicagoland. Our Alexa has been going off like we accidentally subscribed to the apocalypse alert package.
We’re safe. Completely okay.
But I’ve seen posts from folks finding ash on their cars from the fires in Oklahoma and Kansas being carried up by the wind. So, if you’re local and wondering, we’re alright. Just slightly jumpy every time Alexa clears her throat.
The atmosphere has been moody.
So has my nervous system.
We’re not even going to talk about my bones, my joints, and the way my skeleton wants to vacate the premises. Sixty degrees during the day and thirties at night is not my optimal weather setting. Everything hurts.
The Year of the Fire Horse
This week also marked Lunar New Year and the arrival of the Year of the Fire Horse.
The Fire Horse only appears once every 60 years. The Horse in the zodiac represents independence, drive, and forward motion. Fire amplifies those qualities. Energy. Transformation. Refusal to stay stuck.
Some traditions say Fire Horse years shake things loose. They don’t tolerate stagnation. They push for change, even if that change arrives with sparks.
It rained the first night here while I was out on the Blackstone starting hibachi-style fried rice. Gentle and steady. Folklore reads rain on the New Year as cleansing, washing away old luck and making space for abundance.
After everything? I’ll take it.
We celebrated quietly.
M&M folded crab rangoons like a kitchen sorcerer. I handled the frying and earned a couple minor oil splashes as battle scars. I’m okay. Healing. Supervised closely by Luna, who takes her OSHA duties very seriously.
Momentum doesn’t have to be dramatic.
Sometimes it looks like surviving the week and still lighting candles anyway.
I wrote a few posts about it, including Luna’s Takeover highlighting our celebration. I’ll link them for anyone who missed them. They were Folklore Wednesday: The Fire Horse Roars and also Lanterns We Light Carefully: A Cryptid Lunar New Year.
It was beautiful. From the candle display put together by M&M, to the abundant feast we made, it felt intentional.
Sacred in the small ways.
I wouldn’t trade it for the world.
Pupdate: Diaper Baby Era
Now for the update many of you are secretly here for.
On Wednesday morning, Luna went into heat for the second and final time.
Miss Lu Bean is officially grown.
Because she’s a working service dog, our vet recommended we wait to spay until she was fully mature for long-term joint health and development. And now we can finally schedule it. The Big Snip.
That feels strangely emotional. She’s not a baby anymore. She’s a full adult working girl with opinions. Many of them. You know her.
We’ll schedule it soon and plan carefully around her work and recovery.
But let’s face it, she’s always going to be my baby.
Despite being in heat, she’s feeling good. Still playing ball. Still asking for exercise. And if she wants to move, we let her. Controlled play is good for her brain and body.
We’ve stocked up on chews. We’re keeping her comfortable. We are living in Diaper Baby Mode™.
She does not enjoy the diapers.
She tolerates them with visible disdain and loud dramatic sighs.
But we all do things we don’t want to sometimes.
Cattle Dog side-eye remains undefeated.
If anyone was worried, she’s okay. Happy. Energetic. Slightly offended.
She also has an Amazon Wishlist, if you’d like to spoil her during this troubling time. Just because some of you have asked in the past. No expectations, ever.
The Angry Scalp Chronicles
My scalp is still holding a grudge about the EEG glue. We’re trying new shampoo and conditioner thanks to a gift card from my aunt. The Native brand’s new Japanese Golden Pear- because I love pears, and I’ve used and loved their soaps in the past.
The goal is simple: soothe the irritation and feel semi-human before my birthday on Monday the 23rd.
Manageable goals only.
Birthday, Mobility & Small Forward Steps
Monday is the 23rd. My birthday.
I’m turning 31, which feels strange to say because for a long time I told M&M I didn’t think I would make it to 30. It sounds morbid, but when you’re chronically ill and you don’t know what’s wrong with you, it’s easy to put an expiration date on yourself. I shouldn’t have been doing that.
She will absolutely glare at me for admitting it again. I will admit to deserving it.
This will also be the first birthday I’ve had since 2014 without Bear.
My grumpy little old man.
We adopted him in 2014, and he’s been part of every birthday since. Every candle. Every quiet night in. Every “I don’t feel good but we’re doing cake anyway.”
And he passed in October of 2025.
Dogs aren’t just pets. They become rhythm. They become routine. They become the weight at your feet when the world feels unstable. They learn your tells. They learn your pain scale. They become part of the architecture of your life.
So, when people tell me I shouldn’t still be talking about him because it’s been months and I should move on… I don’t understand that.
Grief doesn’t have a schedule.
Love doesn’t evaporate because the calendar flipped a few pages.
He was here for a decade of my life. Through diagnoses. Through surgeries. Through birthdays I didn’t think I would make it to. He doesn’t stop mattering because time passed.
This birthday will be softer in some ways.
And sharper in others.
I’ll still light the candles.
I’ll just feel the space beside me a little more.
No big plans. We still don’t have a car, and that limitation sits heavier some days than others.
But here’s what we can do:
• Something on the grill
• Cake from my aunt
• Instacart magic
• A movie night I will absolutely bully everyone into attending
I like quiet birthdays. I like being home. I like safe.
The Fire Horse is supposed to bring momentum.
Maybe momentum this year looks like:
• Following up on doctors instead of shrinking
• Scheduling Luna’s spay
• Healing small burns
• Letting myself want a car again
• Making plans even if they’re small
If this is a year that refuses stagnation, then maybe this is the year I stop shrinking myself around uncertainty.
Forward doesn’t have to be loud to be real.
Before You Go
If something here felt familiar, you’re not alone.
If you stayed, thank you.
Take your meds if it’s time.
Drink water.
Eat something small, even if it’s just a few bites.
No gold stars required.
Just one haunted meat suit nodding to another.
-Sky
© The Crippled Cryptid
Disability. Honesty. Survival without the performance.
🔗 https://linktr.ee/skylanarissa
No pressure to donate. Reading, sharing, and existing alongside me is already enough.
If you want to support the long, unglamorous work of survival and mobility:
💜 https://www.gofundme.com/f/support-skys-journey-to-health-and-mobility
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