Once upon a time, in a land far, far away...

Here's the thing.  I don't want to move.  I don't want to go anywhere.  The air smells good and the water tastes good.  There's family.  And you know, there is security.

My brilliant therapist once told me that security is knowing what to expect.  I haven't had that in a really, really long time.  I've had a taste of it and I'd like to keep it.

A friend reminded me of something I'd told her over a decade ago, maybe in junior high...  I said that what I wanted when I grew up was to live by myself and maybe some dogs, in the middle of nowhere, and just write.

So why does this feel so much like I have to justify my decision to not move to Pocatello, Boise, or Salt Lake?  Maybe I can get another therapist soon.  I'm a big fan of that.

Today I had an appointment with my GP, Dr. B.  He is working on a referral for me to the University of Utah Clinical Neurosciences Center.  I would really love to become a patient there.  They have over ten doctors and five of them are neurosurgeons.  They also work on rather cutting edge treatments.  I watched a YouTube video of a doctor talking about chronic pain.  He said the move is from opiate treatments to neuromodulation - it looks like the spinal cord stimulation kind of treatments.  I'm excited about this.

So it is that bad that all I want in life is to get a little place to rent to share with my stink hounds?  To just sit around a write?  To focus on getting better?  Maybe even psychologically better?

I feel like I'm supposed to be doing more.  You know, more... ambitious, great things.  The over-achiever in me is balking at this idea.  I'm scared.  Scared that I'm not doing enough, being enough, trying enough.

And once again and forever, I am resentful that I have to carve this life out on my own again.  I had a life.  I miss that life all the time.  I know I need to move on, but every single time I walk and get a stabbing pain down my leg or get up from sitting and feel every vertebrae bitching about it, I feel this wash of anger and sadness and longing.

No matter what I do, no matter what I try, I am not getting the past back.  So why do I feel so paralyzed about the future?

Once upon a time, I knew who I was and what I wanted and where I was going.  Or maybe I just thought I did.  Now I am in a land far, far away from there.

Psychology at work

Tonight the self-indulgent rant is not about pain or toddlers or pain in the bum toddlers (who I love and adore with all my heart), but about something I just figured out.  Today.

So my therapist once told me our brains remember and process and recall anniversaries of important and momentous events in our lives even if we have little conscious understanding of it.  We simply engage in behaviors that manifest the memory until we either figure it out and openly process and deal, or our brains give up on us and wait until the next one to make its point.

Lately, I've been mopey, listening to sappy music (again) and getting all choked up over silly things.  For instance, today I was watching an episode of "Friends" (my SIL is way into that show and has it on DVD) where Joey reads the book I'll Love you Forever as a gift to Ross and Rachel's one year old daughter on her birthday.  I cried.

And every time I've walked by what the picture above shows, I feel funny, weird.  I finally got it.  My brother's slippers were the same kind my husband (ex-husband) once wore. They got all ratty from wearing them everywhere, but they were a part of mornings and weekends and random, unimportant occasions.

You see, it has been a year since he and I separated.  It's been a year since some of the hardest weeks of my life - trying to move our possessions, including all the stuff he'd left behind in a complete psychotic mess, trying to get by when my limited means of financial support went with him, when I had to borrow money from my grandma and search through boxes to find dimes to buy ramen noodles to feed myself.  Or how I couldn't pay for electricity and finally called my mom crying because I just couldn't make it one more day without power, having to light tea light candles all over my apartment at night just so I could use the toilet without falling in!  And missing him and hating him so, so very much.  But my dogs were there the whole time and they loved me and I loved them and that made it okay to feel everything.

So yeah.  That's been about a year ago and I guess somewhere my brain started processing that "clustercuss" (to quote a recent Wes Anderson film).

So I'll accept the need for sappy pap that's kind of embarrassing.  Like the song I've linked below.  It's one of those annoying compilation vids from YouTube.  But here it is, Maroon 5's "Woman".

Tengo una buena vida

The title of this post is a little influenced by "Dora the Explorer" this morning.  We are happy to be learning colors in English and Spanish!

I've come to the conclusion that my lifestyle is freaking awesome.  Yes, it is typically dictated by pain, but consider this:

-I get up when I want, usually only because I need to take care of my dogs, who are both infinitely easier than a toddler.
-When I am hungry I eat and I rarely worry about feeding anyone else.
-If I am sleepy, I take a nap.
-I can stay up as late as I want because, let's be honest folks, I don't have shit to do.
-I do whatever I want most of the time.
-When inspiration strikes, I can just sit down and write.  I don't have to be dictated by time.  I don't have to have a designated writing period and know I've missed out if when it's over, I've got nothing.  I have a friend who has to write when her kids nap and that just seems so impossible!

And there are myriad other blessings.  Since the judge decided my case in my favor, I don't have to worry about finding some job I can do everyday throughout the pain that still pays me enough to live.  I have access to healthcare now and can go to the doctor.  I am able to get pain medication.  You see why I am "tengo una buena vida"!

PS Yesterday my brother took me on a tour of desirable neighborhoods in SLC (I need to live east of 70o and south of 2100).  I have settled on the sugarhouse area - it is just so fantastic!  More on that another time.  Here is the part that was also really, really cool - we drove by the University hospital and medical complexes.  Huge buildings with tons of specialties!  Oh, yeah, I'll get help here!

Binkies, et al

Can I just say for the millionth time, holy crap!  This kid is going to kill us all.  How do you parents manage this? Today my little niece had a hard day, which means her mommy had a hard day, too, just in dealing her daughter. And I was going nuts.  But then there were these wonderful, incredible moments of loving and sweetness.  She and I played on my bed (air mattress extraordinaire, seriously this thing rules).  Our game was take a bath and go to bed.  She pretended to wash her hair and then she jumped into my covers to go to sleep.  We'd lay there pretending to snore.  There was tickling and playing with the blankets and pillows.  It was very sweet.

Then somehow, all the binkies disappeared.  All of them.  Her mommy and daddy had a helluva time getting her to bed.  I cleaned up and then went to the pool.  Ah, the pool.  That was incredible. I did some of my pool physical therapy that I remembered and swam laps.  I kept telling myself, "okay, only one more" and then going and again and again.  Or as my niece would say, "aden, aden".

I couldn't exactly take a picture of me swimming, so instead here is a picture of my fun swimming gadget, my Otterbox, and my goggles.

PS

Have I ever been so tired?  Maybe, after moving... or that last move and driving from Oregon to Idaho.  Maybe then.  I had no idea.  Really, none.

I was going to take and post a picture of the living room after the little cyclone had hit it but figured my SIL wouldn't really appreciate it.  It's astounding how quickly they dump out toy boxes, make messes, and move on.  And their emotions.  They go from 0 to 10 in a second.  At one point I told her no and made her cry and I thought she'd hate me from then on out.  A few minutes later she was using me as a slide.  

The funny thing is, I talk to her like an adult or like my dogs (i.e. good girl, way to go, good job).  I'll say, "Don't freak out.  Just tell me what you want," when she begins a fit.  Then she just looks at me and tells me.  Then I say, "Okay.  Now see how easy that was?" 

The last thing: I am so, so very glad I have pain killers.  This would otherwise be impossible.  I'm in enough pain with them.  

And one more time, for the record, wow.

Day 1

I am here, in Utah, staying with my brother's family.  As you know, I was worried about what or how I could help.  A good friend told me that when she is so sick and miserable and tired being pregnant, she would wish just for another conscious adult, and that even making Mac'n Cheese for dinner would be great.  I can be conscious. I can make Mac'n Cheese.

It was really fun giving my niece her bath; she is so cute.  This morning we played on the playground equipment around her building.  I'm hoping to take her to the pool soon.

But last night, after the little one was in bed, I got to go out to the pool.  I did some of the walking exercises I remembered from physical therapy and I did a little swimming.  The pool was full of junk blown into it from the storm, but I didn't even care.  It was glorious.  I'm going to do it again and again.

A test of my mettle

Tomorrow morning I am heading out with my brother, SIL, and niece to go stay at their house in Utah.  I'm going to stay for a bit to help out with my exuberant niece since my SIL is very sick, being pregnant and unimaginable miserable.  Just seeing her face today made we want to fix it and make it all better for her.  After all, I'm a fixer.

It will be good for me to break out of this self-centered routine and be able to help someone else for a change; I welcome this.

However...

I'm worried because this is going to be really, really hard for me.  Lately I've been having a hard time staying on schedule taking my pain medication.  And if you don't stay on schedule, you are playing catch up and that is a bad place to be.  It has been a bad place to be.  The pain situation this past week has made me really worried that I won't be able to do this, that I won't be of any help, and even worse, that I will be a burden.  That's all they need!

Don't get me wrong, I am excited about this, too.  I'll get tons of time to hang out with my brother and his family.  He's going to take me around Salt Lake City so I can get an idea of neighborhoods for when I officially move there.  And at their townhouse complex there is a pool!  I'll get to take my niece there and then later when I get a break, I will be able to bust out my Otterbox and goggles and maybe do some swimming!

I guess what I mean when I say this is a test of my mettle, is that I'm going to see what I'm made of in a situation that may get pretty difficult.  I've gotten so used to thinking of myself as limited, helpless, worthless, invalid.  Maybe I'll discover that is not actually the case.  That might be exciting.  It might also be kind of scary.

I'm trying to change the idea of who I am, my sense of self.  I want to move from "Chronic Pain Patient" to recovering chronic pain patient to woman who can do everything and anything.  Then is the ongoing test of my mettle.  The psychological component of this is so important.

I found this scale about how you feel each day as a chronic pain sufferer.  It's actually shocking and illuminating.  A little bit of a wake up call.

http://www.theacpa.org/uploads/Life_Scale_3.pdf

I'm going to try to get from a 4 to 5  (although if I am honest, I am sometimes at about a 3) to a 8 to 9.  Wish me luck.

Lilac wine... I feel unready...

I lost myself on a cool damp night

I gave myself in that misty light

Was hypnotized by a strange delight

Under a lilac tree

I made wine from the lilac tree

Put my heart in its recipe

It makes me see what I want to see

and be what I want to be

When I think more than I want to think

I do things I never should do

"Lilac Wine" has been sung by a few artists, but my favorite is Jeff Buckley.  And this inspires my post tonight.

When I say I feel unready, what I mean is that I feel unready for the summer to be over.  I feel I've been in this magical cocoon of security and warmth, of fun and love and joy.  But it's drawing to a close, as it inevitably must.  On Sunday I'm going to head to Utah with my brother to help out with his family.  And while I'm there I'm going to try to get things settled so I can get moved to Salt Lake City soon.  I'm going to start looking for doctors and a place to live and a car and everything else I need to sustain a new life.

This past week flew by.  I worked on crafts with my mom and we did some sewing as well (I'll post pictures of the skirts I've been working on when they are finished).  But I've been really struggling with the increased dosage of my pain medication.

Beyond this my mind has been in tangles working out thoughts and ideas and feelings.  I've shut so much of this thinking off, and now it's coming to me, demanding my attention.  I'm nervous, I'm anxious.

My parents and I were watching the show "Lie to Me" and one of the characters was separating from her husband.  She said something I've thought many times, that she couldn't picture the new life she was having to forge on her own.  It reminded me for the umpteenth time of how much I miss my husband.  Ex-husband.

There's so much about the future I can't picture. So you can see why this song is speaking to me.  It's a recurring theme in my life, possibly yours, too.  It's just that I don't want to do it.  Any of it.  I'm excited for things like complete control over the remote and walking around naked after a bath, taking myself out for coffee and going to movies by myself.  But forging this new life, trying yet again, and dealing with everything I'm dealing with is just not something I want to do.  I'm scared and I'm sad.  This is never what I pictured for my life.  It's not what I wanted.

"Lilac wine... I feel unready..."

But is one ever?

PS I took these pictures around the homestead the other night.

Listen to that still, small voice... of your belly

Just moving back to Idaho put me in a better place - mentally and not just figuratively.  I've said that before.  In the hours and hours of thinking of the last few months, I've come to a number of different conclusions.  This post is about one of them in particular.

I now have this brilliant, shining opportunity to get access to healthcare and "get better" (in quotes because I don't even know what that means anymore).  But I have opportunities to work on getting better now.  What it boils down to is this:

-I stopped taking the vile Neurontin
-I am attempting to scrutinize every morsel of food that goes into my mouth for nutritional quality (sometimes I'm better at this than others)
-I attempt to get some sort of exercise whenever I can, even if it's nothing really spectacular or encouraging to me... sometimes it's just stretching in the living room
-And finally, the best part... I'm listening to what my body tells me do to nutritionally

I've been a vegetarian for awhile now for a few reasons, including that I think the way I eat is more sustainable for our planet and there wasn't really a lot of meat I liked anyway.

In the last little while I've had some meat here and there but learned that my body just doesn't like meat.  Everything works better without it.  I learned even tuna (I still eat fish occasionally) can screw things up.  I've also learned I can't get lazy about it... I'm of the lazy persuasion... like if it takes more than three minutes to prepare, bleh.

Earlier in the week was my "come to Jesus".  I'd gotten lazy about taking my laxative combo and I hadn't really paid attention to what I'd eaten and I got in trouble.  Then I started taking the 10mg instead of the 5mg and I got in even more trouble.  Let's just say this kind of trouble plus lower back pain really, really sucks.

Today I ate well - lots of protein and fiber with some tasty dessert after dinner.  And I made homemade veggie burgers!  And I feel better.  So my conclusion, which might just be universal, is that making an effort is worth it... even if it takes more than three minutes.

PS I wish I'd have taken a picture of the veggie burgers I made!  They were pretty. Instead, the pic is of some raspberries from one of my mom's friends.

Self-care

What a great day of self-care!  That's the term my shrink always used to describe the things I should be doing regularly to take care of myself.  When you get right down to it, there is a lot of time spent solely on existence maintenance.  I think care of self takes it a step above maintenance.

Today was all about that.  I had just gotten tired of not getting enough or good sleep at night (and no naps either, boo!) and not staying on top of taking pain killers and everything else that was making me feel crappy.  Thus, a truly fantastic day was born.

I spent quality time on a pedicure, watching The Simpsons, making more peppermint ice tea, hanging out with my family (including talking cinema and physics with my dad), and chilling with my doggies.  I ate a ton of watermelon and raspberries.  Now I am so tired and ready for sleeping.  I've even perfected a new sleepy-time playlist.

PS The picture above is of my "pedicure/sock compromise" for my dad.  A bit of an inside joke.  But you can see my awesome summer flip-flops tan line!

The agony and the ecstasy

A rather dramatic title, don't you think?

Let's start with the ecstasy.  This summer living with my folks on their farm has been nothing short of miraculous. When I first received the invitation from my mom, I thought, "Nah, I'm 30 years old.  I'm too old to move back home and live with my parents."  She insisted that it would be staying through the summer, an opportunity to rest, relax, and heal.  I once heard her say to someone that I had been through some terrible things and I'm healing from them.  The validation of her saying that was incredible and being here has been a gift.  I feel better emotionally, psychologically.  Instead of feeling the weight of the universe bearing down upon my shoulders, I feel ready to take on anything the universe has to throw at me.  On top of it, today I got some really good news (more good news!) on the social security benefit payment front.  I am so grateful and hopeful.

Now the agony.  I really, really believed I would get this pain medication and taking the 5mg of Norco would make me pain free and happy go lucky, ready to do anything I wanted.  Yeah, I know how naive and silly that sounds in retrospect.  But I really believed that.  And now I'm up to the 10mg already and it's barely doing the job.  On top of that I can't seem to find a doc around here or Boise who can help me with my pump.

Back to the ecstasy.  It looks like I'm going to get to go stay with my brother's family in Utah.  And there is a great University of Utah hospital/medical system.  I think I will have no problem finding health care providers and for that reason and so many others, I've decided I want to move there permanently (or as permanently as this woman can muster) hopefully in the next month or so.

Music means so much to me, I've written that before.  But I can't help but think of the Stones:
"You can't always get what you want...

But if you try sometimes well you just might find

You get what you need

Oh baby, yeah, yeah!"

I'm sure I've quoted that before.

But here's the thing.  I don't think I'm going back to school as soon as I'd planned and I'm certainly not going to meet my 10 year plan of becoming an established trauma surgeon.  But I am a writer, a real writer who might even be good at it and I love it more than anything I've done.  So maybe it's not what I thought I wanted, but maybe it's what I needed after all.

The agony and the ecstasy, baby.

Apologies to Mom and Dad

Here's the thing.  I'm a night person.  I really always have been and probably always will be.  Even when I had an 8-5 job I still was up until midnight or 1AM.  But my parents are morning people.  They go to bed at the latest 10PM.  School is starting back up for Mom again and the schedule is going to transition from the more lax summer schedule to the rigid school year schedule.

I try, I really do.  I take my night medications that are supposed to help me sleep before 10PM.  And they do help, a lot.  But I can't help but push and push until I'm ready to just pass out.  And lately that's been because of the writing.  It seems I can only write once I've gotten all of the screwing around out of my system.  That means I'm not getting into the writing until late and then I have to go until I have to stop (eyes can't stay open, Muse related, whatever).

To compound this issue, taking pain killers means I have to drink a ton of water - more so than usual - and take laxative medications that involve dissolving a chemical-tasting powder in a tall glass of water before bed so it can work it's magic while my body is at rest.  This means I get up in the night.  A lot.  And the stairs are so, so creaky and loud and my dad is probably the world's lightest sleeper.

I'm in their home and need to adjust my schedule accordingly.  Mom and Dad, I will try harder.  But I do think slipping you some Ambien might be the best fix.  You get to sleep fast and then you sleep hard.  Just an idea - sleep on it.  Or at least try to!

Fresh peppermint ice tea

A couple of weeks ago I was sick and miserable - intermittent migraines, horrible regular pain, and then the ongoing puking that accompanies these things.  So my mom went into her yard and picked fresh peppermint from her bush and brewed me some tea.  Delightful.


I noticed there was tea left in the pan an hour or so later and couldn't just waste it.  It was good.  I figured it would be even better cold.  Eureka!  


Here's what you do:


Pick a huge bunch of fresh peppermint from your garden and put it in a pan with cold water.  Bring it to a slight simmer - DO NOT BOIL - and then just leave it there until it turns the color in the jar in the picture above.  Refrigerate.  Pour over ice or drink straight.  If you typically defile your tea with sugar, I imagine you could do that with this tea.


One of the greatest things I've had in about a month.


PS Go to this great new site a friend told me about!
http://whatwouldgingerdo.blogspot.com/

Sing a sad, sad song

"Oh, I went to the Doctor

I said, Doctor, please

What do you do when your true love leaves?

He said, the hardest thing in the world to do

is to find somebody believes in you."

"Sad, Sad Song" by M. Ward

This is actually not really a sad song, it's quite up beat and fun.  But I thought it was apropos the dream from which I just awoke.  I had taken an Imitrex for an impending migraine and passed out.  Then I awoke from this sad, sad dream.

In my dream I was devastated by the idea that I was alone.  I was never really alone, alone - like last woman on the planet alone - there were family and friends everywhere.  But I was devastated that I wasn't in a relationship.  In one scene my siblings and their spouses and my parents were all cuddling with their respective mates on couches watching some sappy movie.

I went crazy, going down a list of past husband/boyfriends in an effort to fine someone to be with.  All the while the inner voice of reason I recognized more as myself kept trying to get me to stop.  At one point I was on the phone with someone or other and I said to myself, "Really?  You'd really rather be with this person than be alone?  Really?"  My other self recognized it and hung up the phone.

And I woke up so very sad.  I was sad for this woman in my dream who didn't want to be alone and especially since there was no way to reason with her.  She would not listen to the "10 year plan" or the "6 month plan".  Nor would she listen to the voice of reason that pointed out a number of inconsistencies:

(a) When on earth would my dad and brothers watch a sappy movie?  When would I unless I was watching it with my mom?

(b) There is no chance of me ever getting to watch a movie without cuddling anyway because to get Sully off me when I'm sitting on the couch requires brute force with all my limbs and even then Libby would just take her place. I mean really, give it up, there will always be a dog of rather large size on my lap.

But there was no reasoning with the sad woman.  I suppose I must recognize she is in there somewhere, despite what I like to believe about myself.  But no worries - I have no intention of breaking out the proverbial black book and searching for a mediocre or worse kind of relationship.  I really prefer the status quo where I work on myself and healing and getting better.  And I'm looking forward to living alone with those stink hound couch cuddlers. 

Useful and productive = higher dosage

Today was a good day.  I awoke at six in the morning and decided on principle that I wasn't getting up that early.  I played Frisbee with the dogs, watched "The Daily Show" while I ate breakfast, did some gardening, including harvesting the mound of peppermint in the picture, cooked a great dinner of potatoes (from the garden) and peas with baking powder bread sticks, made a batch of peppermint ice tea for the fridge, and ended the day watching two of my new favorite shows "White Collar" and "Covert Affairs".

So a good day.  A really good day.

But here is my ongoing challenge.  The more I do, the more pain I am in, and the more drugs I have to take to get this back to manageable again.  I really wanted taking pain medication to mean I'd get to do whatever I wanted and have a much lower pain level.  That's not what it means at all.  Instead, it means that if I do small things and not do every single thing I want to do, I can stay in a more reasonable amount of pain.

I can't help but recall a post I made awhile ago.  My conclusion was basically that it doesn't matter how much you want something, try for it, give everything you have to it, etc. Working really hard and wanting very dearly doesn't mean you get what you want.

One on hand, this is depressing as hell.  On the other hand, it's good for that acceptance part of grief, part of what the "Serenity Prayer" is all about - accepting the things you can't change.

So today I will be glad and fall asleep happy thinking over all the many things I got to do today.  Tomorrow I will do considerably less, and be grateful.

An attempted metaphor (that might have failed)

I am attempting a metaphor from my poor blistered heels, one of which has turned into a large and turbid blood blister.  Sort of a "when life give you lemons..." kind of thing.  I am admittedly proud of my blisters as they are evidence of my efforts toward doing the things I want to do in my life.  Sure, this one didn't end as well as I'd hoped, but the effort was made and I'm satisfied with that.

Yesterday was a wedding and today at noonish is a big ole family barbecue. My large and sometimes boisterous family is a good time.  I woke up today with a lot of pain, but thanks to my friends in the bottle, I'm going to get into decent enough shape to be able to attend and not stay here in bed, frustrated and grumpy on ice packs.

Side note: I've been writing like my fingers are on fire.  It is amazing.  I'm so grateful.

So maybe when life gives you blisters and they fill with blood, you figure out the work-arounds and the potentiality in so many other things.

Also, maybe just posting pictures that gross out my dad is a benefit.  When life gives you opportunities to turn the stomaches of the squeamish, one should never fail in doing so? :)