Don't Look Now, But...

One of the biggest problems I have with my pain is clothing.

The old double barrel slingshot I have to wrap my, er, chest up in makes my back ache like a sonofagun.

I can't wear a belt or a fitted waist anymore, that hurts too much.

Shoes. Oh, lord. I have spent more in the quest for a shoe I can tolerate in the past few years than I spent on shoes my entire life before hand.

So, I have decided the solution for me is to join a nudist colony.

Well, except I'd have to wear socks, because I can't bear for my tootsies to be bare anymore.

And if it's cool, I'll have to wear these wonderful moccasins I found.

Of course, I don't like my neck and shoulders to get cold either, it causes muscle spasms, so maybe a nice shawl of some sort.

Then there's my legs. They  hurt worse if it gets cold, so I'd have to wrap 'em up in something warm....maybe some long leggings.

And the top of my arms get cold easily, too, so maybe arm bands.

Let's see: arm bands, shawl, leggings, socks and shoes.

I'm ready.

The question  is:

Are you?

There's Nothing More We Can Do

Reckon how many thousands of people have been told by their doctor, "There's nothing more we can do."?

I was told that yesterday. Not that I'm dying (well, anymore than usual). But that I am "stuck" where I am with the disability I have unless some new breakthrough comes down the pike. And he didn't seem too hopeful of that.

He'd had a bad day anyway, he said. He said I'd better be glad all the windows in the building were the kind that couldn't be opened, and I told him to go no further because I was a mental health professional and I knew there were other doctors in the building and we could take care of that. Then he laughed and said he'd always been misunderstood.

He's that kind of guy, I really like him. He's funny, down to earth. He made fun of my shoes. (Don't worry, everyone who sees my shoes makes fun of them).

He's also touted as one of the best in the field, and when one has something wrong with them, that's who you want to be treating you, of course.

And I'm grateful that "There's nothing more we can do" said to me isn't referring to a terminal illness. It's referring to a chronic condition.

I don't often get all weepy about it, I try not to dwell on the shape my shape is in because self-pity is very destructive. But I did, a little bit, with him.

And he was truly sad. He was truly sorry.

So am I, doc. So am I.

No Pain, No Life

I've had the privilege of reading to the Middle School - all fifth graders, my audience be. I start reading at 8:15 and finish up by 9:30.

I thought the worst thing would be getting up at 6:00 a.m. after usually lounging in bed until eightish. Or maybe the PTSD I suffer every time I go in that building (it is my old high school). I knew I was reading in the rooms where I had Algebra, Geometry and Biology. (Kathi shudders) Those are the subjects that were not English Lit, language arts, Chorus, writing for the Bobcat's Den (newspaper), playing basketball, and other, much more important things I wanted to be doing in my life.

I was wrong. The worst is afterwards, when I have to lie abed, overcome with pain.

I hate my body. I have tried not to, but even the easiest, most simple things outside my routine of being extremely careful of how long I sit, stand, lie and walk, cause me to suffer. I never know how badly I will be punished, and try to assume it won't be too bad 'this time'.

The first day, after holding the book up to read aloud (it weighs a few ounces) for twenty minutes, then twenty minutes again, I was wracked with muscle spasms in my neck and shoulders so badly I was incapacitated the rest of the day. My back, legs, and feet were an inflamed mess.

The next time, I propped the book up, and avoided most the upper body pain.

So, why do I do it?

I'll tell you the same thing I tell my mother when she preaches I mustn't do so much - which, people, for the average you, is about 1/3 of a normal day:

Because I have to have a life. I really enjoyed reading to those kids. I am a social person, at least a lot of the time. I enjoy entertaining....reading, talking, singing to a group.

Okay, I admit it: I am a ham!

If I can't get out and "do a little", I miss out. A lot.

So, no pain, no life. I have pain all the time anyway, so, what the heck.

I read again Monday. And I'm looking forward to it.