Archives for posts with tag: health

I went to bed with a headache. I woke up with a headache. It’s not even unusual anymore, and as close to “permanent” as chronic seems to get. I mostly have this headache. It’s not what I want to have on my mind, this morning, but here I am sipping my coffee and thinking through (and about) this headache. Like so many things, it is what it is (nothing more, nothing less, and only that).

I breathe, exhale, relax. I double-check that I actually took my pain medication this morning; it does nothing much for the headache, really, but not taking it would definitely contribute to making the headache worse. I get up, stretch, get more coffee. The office coffee is pretty mediocre, but this morning it isn’t actually bad. That’s something. I take a minute to appreciate that, and to be grateful. How much longer will coffee even be affordable? Or… available at all? Will I live to see coffee fade into obscurity, a legengary delight of a bygone era? I know I’ll live to see it become more expensive, perhaps unaffordably so for someone of modest means, such as I am. What strange disturbing times we live in. It saddens me, and I let my sorrow and rage wash over me momentarily before I sigh and make a point to let it go. It’s a work day, there are other things that need my attention.

A shadow of myself.

Another breath, another moment, another thought. The morning sunshine casts my shadow on the bare wall beyond the desk. “Nothing to see here,” I chuckle to myself and my shadow.

…This headache, though…

Valentine’s Day is coming. I’ve said this about that. On the other hand, my beloved Traveling Partner actually has made a practice of getting me a gift and taking a moment to honor the sentiment of the day with me, every year for rather a long while. I enjoy that time together. I enjoy celebrating love in an authentic and romantic way. Last year was… not any of that sweet stuff. lol No idea why, it just wasn’t a great day. “Human” is not always easy and our path is neither paved nor even.

I sigh to myself. I’ve got a lot to be grateful for – even this headache does not diminish that. I sip my coffee grateful for love, most especially. (I wonder what my Traveling Partner got me for Valentine’s Day…?) I turn my thoughts to work. It’s time to begin again – already.

This fragile human vessel is so… fragile. The biochemistry of life is complicated. Maslow’s hierarchy is worth keeping in mind. Self-care really matters. Yesterday evening I “hit a wall” – low blood sugar, pain, fatigue, stress… rough. My Traveling Partner reminded me to slow down and care for myself, suggested having a snack while I was rushing around trying to end the day. He was right. It made a huge difference.

I’m thinking about it now as I deal with my physical pain on a rainy day and deal with the background stress of the constant swirling discussion of stressful government madness. I breathe, exhale, and relax. I think about dinner. I look out the window at the rainy day. I remember to take pain medication. I drink water. I stand up and stretch and move around. I refresh the content of my thoughts with a pleasant distraction. Basic stuff.

It’s a gray rainy day. Not particularly cold, though it may be over the weekend. I sigh quietly and consider the imminent end of the work day. I think about far away friends and wonder how they are. I think about my Traveling Partner at home, also dealing with pain. Pain sucks. Still… it could be worse. The office is comfortably warm, and home will be as well. That’s no small thing. I think about dinner, again, and wonder if maybe pizza would be good…?

I smile to myself, grateful for what I’ve got, and what works. Hopeful, because that feels better than despair. There are verbs involved – and a lot of those have to do with self-care. So, I do a few of those things, and look forward to a hot shower after I get home. That’ll feel nice… a good way to begin again.

I slept badly last night. I woke to the full brightness of my artificial sunrise (which usually wakes me much sooner, in soft dim light). My routine was thrown off by the addition of putting in my new hearing aids, which I’m not yet super skilled at, and doing it felt clumsy. My long hair and glasses complicate that a bit; it’s necessary to brush my hair before I put in my hearing aids – but brushing my hair is often “the last thing I do”, and I’d set things up such that the hearing aids were “too soon” in my routine (thinking I’d put them in right after I put on my glasses). lol Being fond of routines and habits has a downside; the plan needs to account for the realities of my lived experience. So. I found myself mentally rearranging my morning routine – during my morning routine – and the end result was that I forgot my computer glasses when I left for work. Fucking hell.

…The hearing aids work very well, though, so there’s that…

The drive to the office was ordinary enough, though I’m still getting used to the “convenience” of hearing things so differently. Even car sounds, like the seatbelt warning ding, are quite different, and not just “louder”. Interesting. It’s somewhat similar to the experience of getting new glasses after needing glasses for awhile. There’s a certain awe and wonder to the level of additional detail. (I also need new glasses…)

When my Traveling Partner wakes and sends me a text message, the notification reaches me through the hearing aids, which are paired with my phone. I rather stupidly had the volume almost all the way up, because without the hearing aids, that’s what it took to get my attention – and I still missed tons of messages, because I just wasn’t noticing the notifications. Well, that’s not a problem now! I chuckled and turned the volume way down, fairly delighted that I can stop compulsively checking for missed messages, now, being able to count on hearing the notification each time.

…Pretty mundane stuff, eh?…

I sip my coffee and take a moment for myself before I start getting caught up on work. My back aches in spite of taking pain medication for that. I shrug to myself grateful that I’m not yet experiencing eye strain from wearing the wrong glasses. It’s a very human experience. This fragile vessel isn’t in the shape it once was, and various components are needing attention, or assistance. My thoughts wander briefly to “how much longer?” but I don’t linger there – I know I won’t live forever, but I’ve no desire to drag the end closer to my “now” moment. I hear the phrase “death and taxes” in my thoughts and roll my eyes; it is time to do the taxes. Apparently I’d rather think about death. LOL Humans are weird. I breathe, exhale, and relax. This moment here, with my coffee and my inbox, is quite enough for now. I pull my attention back to “now”.

It’s still quite early, and I have the office to myself for the time being. It’s pleasantly quiet, although it sounds quite different in many little ways. I listen to the ventilation, the hum of distant machinery, and the subjective “silence” of this space. It’s not silent at all. It’s not even actually “quiet” – I just perceive this experience as “quiet” because it is not filled with the chaos of human voices. I sip my coffee, content and grateful. This is enough – even with the wrong glasses on. 😀 I look out the window into the pre-dawn darkness. Daybreak soon. I turn off the office light, too better see the day begin. The light of my monitors is enough to work by.

I feel incredibly grateful and fortunate. I’ve got a partnership I can count on, with a human being I quite adore. I’ve got a good job that keeps the bills paid, and the pantry stocked. I’ve got decent healthcare, and what it doesn’t cover is mostly handled by the VA when I need something more. I’ve got good friends and good colleagues. I’ve got this pleasant moment right here, and the hope that I’ll see many many more. It adds up to a pretty good experience. I sit with that awareness awhile. It’s been a worthy journey so far – and there’s further to go.

…It’s time to begin again…

So, the tl;dr on the visit to the new doctor is that I have a new doctor, and feel pretty well cared for, and one result is a renewed feeling of commitment to my health, generally, and less frustration and fewer feelings of futility about the work involved in being in good health. I’ve got a way to go, and there’s work to do. Predictably enough, I got pretty lax about things like my diet over the holiday season. Time to return to good practices and healthy choices, and there are a bunch of fucking verbs involved. lol

I spent some time this morning, over my black coffee (iced, no sugar) thinking about diet, nutrition, exercise, and cooking for a family while also staying focused on my own needs (and limitations). There are some foods I really like, that I can’t have (or have to limit very strictly), and that just has to be a practical part of the day-to-day without fussing or frustration. Examples? Cheese. Butter. Sugar. Non-nutritive carbs. Those are the biggies. I definitely enjoy cheese…and if I’m having cheese, I probably want that on a cracker… which are purely empty carbs with added sugar. So… no. Butter? Damn, I like cooking with butter. I don’t like the results with butter substitutes, and some recipes don’t turn out quite as well using oil – even healthy oil like avocado or olive. So… yeah. Butter needs to go, too, at least on my meals. Sugar? Just being real, that shit’s basically poison to me. I don’t need to be convinced. The hard part isn’t giving up gummy sweets (which I do really like) – the hard part is strictly limiting fruits to appropriate, measured, controlled, limited portions. These necessary restrictions don’t exactly leave me starving for flavorful meals. lol I’m not that fussy an eater, and I really like squash, and spinach, and eggs, and lean chicken, and broccoli, and beans, and nuts, and salads… so… yeah. Change is. I just have to do the work and demonstrate the commitment and the discipline, and I know that I feel better when I do. Choices.

So… there’s that…

Then… I need to do a little more, and do it a little faster. Basically, I need to make a point to burn those calories. lol I walk – but I’m not walking at the brisk pace I once did. I’m more… ambling along pleasantly enjoying the scenery. I’m in pain, and pushing harder isn’t easy. I’m grateful to be walking at all. Still, it’s time to pick up the pace and make real gains in strength. My doctor was frank with me, and also kind and encouraging. I know I’ve got this – it’s just that there really are verbs involved, and I’ve really got to do them for myself. Maybe that means on some days throwing in an extra walk, just around the neighborhood, at a proper quick pace with my cane and without taking pictures of flowers? I can easily get a mile or more in 20 minutes if I maintain a steady pace – and I know I should be able to do that without being breathless, at all. It’s worth doing. The more able I am, the more I’ll be able to do. More trails become attainable, greater distances become practical for a day hike. It’s worth the effort – and it’s okay that it will be an effort. That’s part of the point; doing the verbs.

This isn’t about new year’s resolutions, and these aren’t unexpected or unreasonable changes to need to make. I’ve been here before. I’m here again. That’s okay – it’s time, that’s all. The holidays are over and there’s work to do to be healthy and fit. Will I fail? Fuck yeah, probably; I’m very human. Will I begin again when I do? Definitely. I’ve got a goal, and a journey ahead, and it’s my path – I’ve got to walk it myself.

I smile and finish my coffee. I feel okay. I slept restlessly, and woke in pain, but neither of those things are out of the ordinary, nor do they cause me any particular concern, they’re just details to work around, and to cope with. It’s a very human experience. I’m feeling pretty encouraged and motivated. It’s time to begin again. Again.

I am sitting quietly, listening to the woosh of the ventilation and the zing and buzz of my tinnitus. Just that, nothing more. Some minutes pass before I consider my keyboard or my thoughts. I just sit awhile, with this infinite seeming moment. It’s isn’t though; it’s quite finite and mortal and limited by this space and whatever time and attention I give it. Just a moment. Sometimes a moment seems so fragile and fleeting. A metaphorical drop in the bucket of a lifetime of moments…but…how big is that bucket, anyway?

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I sip my coffee. I give a bit of attention to the pain in my neck, my back, my headache, and then move on; my thoughts are elsewhere. Here. Now. Just being. I’m not doing anything right now – other than making a point of noticing the stillness, and this moment, and writing a few words before letting stillness and quiet overtake me again. I exhale slowly, hearing my breath and noticing that the sounds of the ventilation, my breath, and my tinnitus all seem quite “the same volume”. I’m not certain they are, particularly considering the “sound” of my tinnitus isn’t a “real” sound at all – no one hears that but me.

I stretch, and sigh, and adjust the way I’m sitting in this rather uncomfortable office chair. It’ll be a day of it, though a short one. I see a new doctor today. For a moment I wonder how that will go, and whether I’ve chosen well or poorly. I put all that aside, again; the time is not now. “Now” is just this moment, here. Quiet. Still. Alone. It’s quite pleasant and… something else. Fulfilling? Satisfying? Peaceful. For a moment (this moment) there is no chaos. This is a chosen, deliberate, willful thing. I am choosing peace and order in this solitary moment. It isn’t much, as peace and order goes, and it surely does nothing noteworthy to improve the state of our messy chaotic terrifying world – but it is here, and now, and it is real. (No one is dying in this moment, in this place. Real peace. I’m choosing it. You can too. So can “they” – and by “they” I mean all those beyond these walls who are choosing to kill, or to send others to fight and kill and die. Those are most definitely choices and could be handled quite differently.)

I sigh quietly, annoyed to have let my thoughts slip from this moment to other moments, other places – other intentions. I pull my mind back, and begin again. Here. Now. This moment. This place. This feeling of peace and contentment and stillness.

Later this week The Author will visit me and my Traveling Partner, and I am eager to see him – it’s been too long. 2016? 2017? Something like that, I think. I remember his visit to help me move into #59… or was it the duplex? Was it both? He’s a good friend – willing to help with a move. Hell, he helped me move to Portland from Fresno, both of us driving vehicles not ideally up for that challenge. That’s friendship, right there. This has been an enduring friendship since we first met… 1996? I think so. He has visited me. I have visited him (though less often). I think about making a trip down his way maybe this Spring – if my Traveling Partner is up to being without me for a few days when that time comes. Could be fun. A chance to see many old friends, and renew those with shared moments and new memories. A worthwhile endeavor.

I smile and my thoughts move on. I look at the time, reluctantly. The work day calls for my attention. My coffee is almost gone. Daybreak is visible on the horizon, beyond the windows. It’s time to begin again.