Tuesday Cryptid Dispatch

Case File Tags: Chronic Illness, Disability, Service Dog Life, Family, Recovery Days, The Great Pumpkin™, Traveling Gnomes, Midwest Adventures

Content Note: This post contains discussion of chronic illness, disability, mobility challenges, veterinary surgery, pet health anxiety, family relationships, recovery after physical activity, and medical appointments.

Welcome to The Crippled Cryptid

Disability, chronic illness, service dogs, and survival without the performance.

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 a jump scare.

I cope with sarcasm, snacks, and narrating my life like it’s a field report.

Sometimes there’s coffee.

Those are the best days.

Today, there are electrolytes.

Lots of them.

Because your ghoul is rocking sore muscles and Blue Raspberry Liquid I.V. like it’s a personality trait.

Since I can’t find the pear flavor anymore, which is honestly a tragedy, I’ve apparently decided this one is my entire identity now.

Most days are lived in a haunted meat suit with a questionable warranty and a long-standing feud with my nervous system.

And on Tuesdays…

We document it.

The appointments.

The adventures.

The spirals.

The “we left the house and now we have a story” moments.

Sometimes that story is just me sitting in a waiting room mentally drafting a rant while staring at outdated magazines.

Sometimes it’s “we found a place afterward and the food changed my life.”

Sometimes it’s both.

I spend a lot of time in Bed Jail™, but when I do venture into the wild, I’m rarely alone.

Luna is there.

Medical alert service dog.

Guardian.

Enforcer.

Service Dingo™.

Public access professional.

Emergency “we need to sit down right now” decision-maker.

There’s also M&M.

My Player 2.

My soft place to land.

Snack provider.

Voice of reason when I have none.

Which is often.

I’m a very stubborn cryptid.

And, in spirit (and usually at home), the Yard Yeti.

Keeper of the home base.

Guardian of the Wi-Fi.

Champion of “I support you from this chair.”

This space is for chronic illness without inspiration porn.

Disability without apologies.

Life as it actually happens.

Including the messy.

The mundane.

And the unexpectedly good.

If you’ve been here before, welcome back.

If you’re new, you’ll find your footing.

Welcome to the Cryptid Dispatch.

Field notes from the chaos.

📡 Cryptid Dispatch Incoming…

Today’s report includes life updates, quiet revelations, and something that changed my life in a way I didn’t expect.

This isn’t a rant.

Just a “we left the house” post.

Something that still feels a little wild.

A little bit of adventure.

🎃 The Great Pumpkin™ Era

If you haven’t been keeping up with the blog, I’ll say it again:

Your resident Cryptid is mobile again.

Yeah, I know.

I’ve been saying it a lot lately.

But until the excitement wears off, you’re probably going to keep hearing it.

Sorry.

After seven months, we were finally able to get a vehicle.

She is a 2019 Jeep Renegade Trailhawk.

And yes.

I’ve already named her.

She is The Great Pumpkin™.

Complete with a Stay Weird bumper sticker and conversation-heart jack-o’-lantern decals on the back window.

Don’t worry.

That’s not the last of the customizations.

There are pumpkin tire valve covers too.

Though if M&M keeps adding puppy paw prints and dog-themed accessories, I may have to start calling her the Pupkin’ Spice Latte.

(TBH, that’s already the name of her in-car Wi-Fi.)

I’m not saying the Jeep is becoming emotionally-support-coded.

But I am saying there are paw prints involved.

And honestly?

How could I be upset?

Luna is one of the biggest and best parts of my life.

Every time I climb into The Great Pumpkin™, part of me is still a little surprised that I can simply decide to go somewhere again.

Seven months ago, that freedom felt impossibly far away.

Now the keys hang by the door.

And that still feels a little magical.

🐉 Dragons Day Out

Shockingly, BJ was actually home on Saturday.

Which is a sentence I don’t get to say very often lately.

And you know what that means, don’t you?

Adventure.

Because I told you already.

This is going to be the Summer of Adventure.

With Luna’s surgery scheduled for tomorrow and my own surgery later this summer, there won’t be as many opportunities for random outings as I’d like.

So, we’re making room where we can.

Every unexpected day off.

Every free afternoon.

Every chance we get.

If there’s something fun to do, we’re going to do it.

After 7 Mile Fair, BJ suggested finding something local and nerdy.

And honestly?

How much more local and nerdy can you get than something called Dragons Day Out?

It was basically a Renaissance Faire and a flea market that had a baby and raised it on fantasy novels.

Was it hot?

Yes.

Was it sunny?

Aggressively.

Did my feet hurt afterward?

Dear reader, they still do.

And honestly?

Worth it.

The first vendor tent we wandered into belonged to a company called Last Gnome Location.

They sell hand-painted traveling gnomes with built-in NFC chips.

You tap your phone to the bottom of the gnome.

Create an account.

Check them into locations.

And suddenly you’re participating in what can only be described as Gnome Instagram.

Naturally, I was sold immediately.

Mine is named Kith.

He has a lantern.

A dragon on his hat.

And according to his bio, he enjoys guiding people safely to their destination.

Which is funny because I bought him for the Jeep before I ever read that part.

Apparently, he already knew his assignment.

There’s something kind of funny about buying a traveling gnome right now.

Seven months ago, I didn’t know when I’d have reliable transportation again.

Most of my world existed between appointments, grocery deliveries, and Bed Jail™.

Now there’s a dragon-hatted gnome riding around in The Great Pumpkin™ because apparently, we’re the sort of people who have road-trip mascots.

Life changes fast sometimes.

We also bought one for M&M.

Her gnome, Florywink, holds a little Welcome sign and a sunflower and lives in the front window.

BJ’s is all beard, nose, and shoes. His name is Emerson. He has the most charming green hat. He’s a desk gnome.

Current Status of Kith:

• Safely aboard The Great Pumpkin™
• Ready for adventure
• Has already seen more of Illinois than some people
• Slightly concerned about Luna’s management style

🌭 Dog n Suds, Because Sometimes We Don’t Cook

After wandering around the fairgrounds all afternoon, we were starving.

And one thing we don’t do is spend twenty dollars on a sad-looking burger.

Not a burger, fries, and a drink.

Just a sad-looking burger.

So, we left.

Found real food.

And headed to Dog n Suds.

If you’re from the Midwest, you already understand.

If you’re not, this may sound entirely made up.

BJ got his usual.

Footlong cheese dog.

Fries.

Root beer.

The root beer.

The one the entire household insists is the greatest root beer ever created.

Honestly?

We’re probably right.

M&M and I each got footlong coney cheese dogs.

Did we regret ordering that much food?

Absolutely.

Did we finish most of it anyway?

Also, yes.

The coney cheese fries eventually became breakfast the next morning while I baked a cherry pie.

Because apparently my love language is feeding people.

🥧 Long Drives & Family Dinner

Sunday, we went to my dad’s house.

I know.

For some of you who’ve followed my story for years, those are still strange words.

They’re strange words for me too.

New words.

New relationships.

New traditions.

Things I didn’t have before.

He made pork and potatoes.

We brought a cherry pie I made from scratch that morning.

Because if someone invites me to dinner, I’m bringing dessert.

It’s who I am.

He told me I could wear pajamas if I wanted to.

That he wasn’t getting dressed either.

I laughed.

And then I showed up in Cheshire Cat pajama pants and a Dungeon of Doom t-shirt.

Because honestly?

It made everything feel less intimidating.

Less formal.

More normal.

Some families have Sunday dinners in dress clothes.

Some families have Sunday dinners in horror t-shirts and pajama pants.

I think both deserve a seat at the table.

Sometimes life gives you things so late that you don’t quite know what to do with them.

New roads.

New family.

New traditions.

New words.

But I’m learning that late doesn’t mean less.

And honestly?

The drive there was pretty nice too.

☕ Recovery Day™

Monday was quieter.

Mostly.

Recovery Day.

The kind where your body sends you an invoice for all the fun you had over the weekend.

The kind where your legs hurt before your eyes are fully open.

The kind where wandering around a fairground in the sun somehow counts as an extreme sport because your joints are held together by vibes and medical paperwork.

So naturally, I took it easy.

Or at least my version of taking it easy.

I watched the newest episode of The Way Home.

No spoilers.

But I will say this season has emotionally body-slammed me.

Then I made coffee.

Checked the garden.

Admired the strawberries.

Glared at the weeds.

Fed the birds.

Wrote for a while.

And headed across town to get a replacement tire installed on The Great Pumpkin™ after our recent tire mishap.

Apparently, Cooper Endeavor tires are difficult to find.

Thankfully, Discount Tire tracked one down.

And thankfully I had tire coverage.

The staff there are always kind.

Which matters more than people realize.

Tonight’s plans are simple.

Pasta.

The newest episode of FROM with M&M.

And keeping one eye permanently glued to Luna Bean.

Because while I’m writing this Tuesday morning, her spay surgery is tomorrow.

And despite every logical part of my brain knowing she’ll be fine…

I am still an overprotective dog mom.

🐾 Luna Watch

By the time you’re reading this, Luna Bean will be less than twenty-four hours away from surgery, and I’m already hovering like an anxious Victorian mother convinced every sigh requires immediate medical intervention.

The vet says she’ll do great.

Logic says she’ll do great.

My dog mom brain says we should probably check on her every twelve seconds.

For anyone wondering, most dogs recover beautifully from routine spay surgeries.

The difficult part usually isn’t healing.

It’s convincing an active dog that they are not, in fact, invincible.

Particularly when that dog is an Australian Cattle Dog medical alert service dog whose primary hobby is making questionable life choices at full speed.

Or anything involving the word B-A-L-L.

There will absolutely be updates throughout the week.

Blog updates.

Instagram updates.

Possibly emergency “look how cute she is” updates.

Fair warning:

If Luna does anything remotely adorable, dramatic, stubborn, heroic, or vaguely dingo-shaped during recovery…

You will hear about it.

Because let’s be honest.

I may write the blog.

But Luna Bean is management.

🐾 Luna Rating Scale™

Category	Rating
Snack Quality	⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
Emotional Stability of Humans	⭐⭐☆☆☆
Roadside Safety	⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
Couch Recovery Efficiency	⭐⭐⭐⭐☆
Chance of Mom Overdoing It Again	⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐
Peanut Butter Cookie Compensation	⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐+

Official Statement from Luna Bean, Service Dingo™:

“Mom said we were just going out for a little adventure. This was, in fact, a lie.”

👻 From One Cryptid to Another

If you’re low on spoons, grab a couple from the snack table.

I keep extras there.

Drink some water.

Take your meds if it’s time.

Eat something.

Even if it’s only a few bites.

If your life feels like a string of strange side quests, you’re not alone.

Some days feel like D&D with a character you didn’t build.

Some days feel like Jumanji and someone else already disappeared into the jungle.

Some days are big.

Some days are just:

we survived the appointment.

we survived the body.

we survived Bed Jail™.

All of it counts.

The body still hurts.

Luna still has surgery tomorrow.

There are appointments on the calendar.

There always will be.

But the Summer of Adventure is still on.

Even if adventure looks like a local fairground.

A root beer stand.

A family dinner in pajama pants.

Or a dragon-hatted gnome riding shotgun in an orange Jeep.

It still counts.

Seven months ago, most of my world fit inside four walls and a calendar full of appointments.

These days, it stretches a little farther every week.

Not because my body changed.

But because my life did.

Turns out freedom doesn’t always arrive with fireworks.

Sometimes it arrives carrying a root beer, a dragon-hatted gnome, and directions to somewhere you’ve never been before.

Thanks for coming along with me.

-Sky

© The Crippled Cryptid

Disability, honesty, and a little chaos.

If you’re here, you belong here.
If today was heavy, thank you for carrying it with me.
If you’re reading from Bed Jail™, give your service dog an extra scritch for me.

🔗 https://linktr.ee/skylanarissa

There’s never pressure to donate – reading, sharing, or simply staying is more than enough.
But if you’d like to support my ongoing journey toward health, stability, and mobility, you can do so here:
💜 https://www.gofundme.com/f/support-skys-journey-to-health-and-mobility

The Great Pumpkin™ is fueled.
Kith is onboard.
Luna Bean is in charge.

Summer of Adventure Status: ACTIVE. 🧡🐾🎃🐉