Archives for posts with tag: health

My walk this morning was short, local, and drizzly. It is a drizzly morning. I walked with my thoughts, and headed home to begin the day. The drive back to the house felt peculiarly nostalgic – something about the drizzle, and the way the sheen of water on the road reflected the light of the gray skies over head – and I found myself thinking about sick days on rainy Spring mornings as a kid. How is it that all my recollections of missing school due to being sick seem to be rainy days? I guess with the average number of rainy days where I grew up being about 111 days per year, falling primarily in the months between March and November, it would be better than a 1 in 3 chance of any given sick day being a rainy one. Maybe they really all were? lol

When I started down the trail, it wasn’t raining. Change is.

I arrived home to find my Traveling Partner awake, and it was lovely to see him. I made coffee for us both, and headed to my office to begin the day. All so very ordinary, so routine that the days sometimes seem to blur together except that the precious loving moments we share stand out, each unique and worth appreciating. It’s strange that when I look back on my childhood, there are really only a small handful of recollections I can count on as “my own”, and many of those are rather archetypical – conflations of many similar events becoming just one “memory”. When I look back on the past 15 years with my Traveling Partner, it’s not that way. There are many many memories, each built on small details that linger in my recollection. I don’t know whether this is a sort of before/after contrasting what remains of my memory after my head injury with how my memory works now, but there it is; I have relatively few childhood memories, and some of those are rather suspiciously recalled “in the third person”, as though I am remembering something I was told, not really remembering something I experienced.

I think about memory awhile, and rainy sick days. I remember those almost fondly. The rainy gray drive to the doctor’s office. Bundled up at home with chicken soup, saltine crackers, and a book to read. Sitting at the dining room table playing with Play-Doh, or coloring in a favorite coloring book. Napping. Waking. Reading. Before my head injury, my sick-day recollections are mostly to do with headcolds or the flu. After my head injury they are more often about headaches. I missed quite a bit of school, even through high school, over headaches. I don’t miss much work over headaches as an adult; I’ve learned to live with them. It’s an uneasy truce, some days, and I’d for sure prefer not to have a headache at all, but since I generally do (of one sort or another), it’s probably best that I don’t just give in and quit, eh?

You’re not alone with your pain. Not really. We’ve all got some kind of pain – well, most of us, I feel fairly certain. There are no doubt those rare few individuals with charmed lives of such good fortune that pain hasn’t become a thing to endure day after day after day after day after… You know? I’m not even sure those people are to be envied; they may lack some useful perspective on endurance, and what they are truly capable of, perhaps. (I don’t know; I’ve never lived that life.) I sip my coffee and notice that my mind has wandered on to other things. The garden. The roses. Pain management. Nutrition, diet, and exercise. The shit I’ve got to get done today. The things I’m eager to do for myself once the needful tasks of the day are behind me. My garden. Work. Life. Love. I let my mind wander on for a few minutes of self-reflection before I get started on work in earnest. Sometimes self-reflection feels a little self-indulgent, but it is actually an important bit of self-care (at least for me); it tends to keep me “on my path”.

…What are you doing to care for yourself? What are you practicing?

I breathe, exhale, and relax. The clock ticks on. The rain continues to fall. I notice that it is time to begin again.

I’m enjoying a few quiet minutes while goulash cooks-down in the dutch oven. I didn’t write this morning, but honestly didn’t have much to say. The moment was its own thing, and I was enjoying it entirely as it was, and my contentment became the content of my day, which I spent mostly on housekeeping and hanging out with my Traveling Partner. It was a day well-spent, and worthy of some sort of comfortable, hearty, and nourishing evening repast. 😀

I can hear the conversation of my Traveling Partner and the Anxious Adventurer in the other room. They are beginning a game of cribbage. I can’t actually hear the details of the words shared between them, I only hear the merry hum of their conversation mixed with the music playing in the background. What a lovely evening!

If I had sat down to write “how to have a pleasant day”, I’m not sure I could have guided anyone else through this experience sufficiently well for them to share it, or craft such a thing on their own. I have a satisfying sort of “got this one right” feeling, and I’m doing my best to avoid over-thinking things or reading any kind of tempting steady-state of being into one day. It is, however, quite a nice day as days go, and I sit with that for a moment, really savoring it, thinking over what got done without being smug about it, thinking about what got fucked-off for some other day without beating myself up over it, just enjoying the day precisely as it is, and has been. It’ll be ideal to finish the day in good company, over a tasty meal, and I smile to myself. I know I have come far enough that if I were to “ruin dinner” somehow, it wouldn’t be anything more than a moment of aggravation, and pivot to “plan B”, moving on to continuing to enjoy the day, without a tantrum or freak out over something as small as dinner.

…The fragance of the smoked paprika, garlic, and onions fills the house slowly…

What a nice weekend. I sit with that awhile, too. I don’t have any solutions, but I do know it is helpful to give more attention to our pleasant moments and small joys that we often tend to do. Savor your best moments – they’ll pass. Don’t give up on them prematurely. Give less thought to your most difficult moments – they’ll pass. Let them.

It’s unhealthy to let Other People’s Drama (however near or far away) live rent free in our heads. Let small shit stay small. Let things so far outside your control that you are literally helpless to change them (or uable even to be an actual bystander), let that shit just not even be part of your moment-to-moment awareness for a time. The world with be what it is, regardless, and the most useful we can do – often – is simply to be our best selves, living our best lives, in the most kind, enouraging, and practical way possible. Understanding that others around us may be having a very different experience. Perspective and sufficiency can make so much difference to an experience! I breathe, exhale, and relax. “Feels like things are looking up,” is a lovely way to feel – but it is “only a feeling”. Emotion. It is its own thing. Enjoy or endure emotions, as they are, and be kind to yourself and the people are around you. It’s a very human journey. (And I’m not telling you what to do – your choices and actions and will are your own. Do you. I’m just sharing things that I’ve learned or have been helpful for me, personally. Do with that what you will. I just think these are better practices than some alternatives.)

The music in the background stops. The playlist has ended. The ventilation comes on, and the scents from the kitchen are carried further. Smells good. I glance at the time; the clock is always ticking. I remember the package the Anxious Adventurer brought to me earlier – forgotten, left where I suggested he put it. I haven’t even opened it yet, and don’t recall what it may be. lol What a lovely evening – and it’s time to begin again, anyway.

I’m sipping my coffee over a break between catching up on everything I missed while I was out of the office for a long weekend, and getting started on all the things yet to be done with this new day. I’m thinking about what a joy the weekend was, and what a trainwreck it sometimes feel the world is (or has become). The immense value and promise of the Internet and global connectivity doesn’t change how easy it is for entities with an agenda to harvest our data – or our attention – regardless of the actual value to us as individuals, and it can be hard to detach myself from the outrage machinery and engagement-seeking drama all around. It can be done; there are verbs involved. Choices. Commitment. Will. Practice.

Choose your path and walk it.

I’m not “a perfect person” – not even close. I am seeking the best within myself, and making a point to practice the practices that serve to shore up (and improve) my mental health and emotional wellness, and build better relationships. I work hard to be become the woman I most want to be. It’s an ongoing bit of work to address character flaws, battle my inner demons, and just do my damned best to be a better person today than I was yesterday. My results vary. (Yours will too; it’s a very human experience.) Still – what better journey than this journey of self-discovery, and healing, and growth could I make over the course of a lifetime? Step by step, day by day, one practice at a time, one moment at a time… I’m finding the best within myself that I can, working to create better qualities where I find myself lacking, and living that life.

…It was a lovely weekend, celebrating love and spending time in the garden. I feel rested, nourished, and restored by the days spent on life and love in the company of my beloved Traveling Partner. I definitely needed it…

The new day began after a night of strange dreams. The sun rise was beautiful as I made the commute to the office. Traffic was light, the drive was pleasant, and my morning coffee is quite good. A nice beginning to the week. The only “fly in my ointment” this morning is this wistful pang of loss and vague persistent feeling of longing in the background; I miss my Traveling Partner intensely after 4 pleasant days spent together, present, connected, and loving. I could have worked from home, but… I doubt I’d have been able to focus on working. lol My heart is at home, in spite of the work in front of me. My thoughts are in my garden, and with my beloved. Taking a break to write, reflect, and indulge my emotions a bit is intended to let me “get back to work” more focused (the way out is through, and our emotions are not an enemy or a defect).

“Baby Love”, the first rose to bloom this year.

I sigh to myself and smile at nothing much. I sip my coffee and stretch. Life is full of next steps and new beginnings. Incremental change over time may not feel like the fastest route to lasting change, but it is a reliable one. I gaze out the window at the brilliant blue sky streaked with a single vapor trail from a passing aircraft, watching the shifting hues of green in the trees as the sun rises higher. Nice moment to pause and reflect and feel the contentment I’ve worked to build over years. I’m standing in a good spot, metaphorically speaking…nonetheless, it is time to begin again. The clock is ticking.

Some 15 months ago or so, I drained the hot tub, planning to clean and refill it, which I didn’t do before winter had come. It stood empty quite a long while. Shortly after the Anxious Adventurer moved in back in July, he refilled it and adjusted the chemistry – very promising – only to discover a notable leak. Well, shit. I’ve been without the joy of being immersed in hot water for all this time, and last night after repair work, and tinkering, and cleaning, and filling, and adjusting chemistry, the hot tub was back to fulfill its purpose; being full of hot water. Oh damn that was so nice, just to soak in hot water, floating gently, watching the sky overhead. See, the thing about a bath tub is that the water inevitably begins to cool, a less than ideal outcome. lol

I still woke up crazy stiff and hurting, this morning, lovely moment soaking in the hot tub being a profound pleasure but not a cure for anything. I’m not even annoyed. It’s just part of the experience.

I drove in to the office feeling merry, without regard to the pain I’m in. I stopped at the top of a hill to see a beautiful sight before driving on (I rarely allow myself that luxury).

Mt. Hood, Venus, a crescent moon.

Nice morning for it. I’ll get a walk later. My head aches and I could do with a cup of coffee. It’s a busy day ahead. I work on taking things as they come, this morning, and refrain from reading things into the moment, or anticipating challenges that don’t yet exist. I’m just floating. Present. Observing. Mindful. Enjoying this moment as it is, without demanding that it do or be more than whatever it happens to be, now. Allowing sufficiency to be enough.

strawberry blossoms

I think about dinner, later. I think about my garden, now. Neither of these things are part of my experience of this moment, here. That’s very much part of the challenge, isn’t it? Living “now” doesn’t have to be about hedonistic excess (probably shouldn’t be about that, really), but neither is it “about” the moments and experiences that are presently out of reach. Yearning is not productive. Planning is. How best to find the balance between those things is work in progress, at least for me. I remind myself to make room for other experiences, other lives, other ways, other journeys, while I walk my own path. I breathe, exhale, and relax. (How am I so tired this morning?)

I sip my coffee, finding some amusement in how much I miss my Traveling Partner this morning, and my garden, and the cup of coffee I’d make for myself… simple experiences of profound joy, readily available when I work from home. Things are fine in the office, and there is nothing to complain about. I even have a pleasant view of a lovely Spring morning out this window in front of me. I’m neither content with where I am, nor am I wishing to be elsewhere. I’m just here, living this moment, and it’s fine. I feel fairly positive, and mostly merry, I just hurt and my attempts to avoid that sensation are fatiguing and have the potential to make me cross as the day wears on. I’m restless. Thinking about my garden is preferrable. Thinking about my beloved is uplifting. I end up spending rather a lot of time “in my own head”. No complaints; it has become a pretty pleasant place, generally.

…I’m stalling. There’s an entire day ahead and I have a list of things to get done in these handful of mortal hours. The clock is ticking and it is time to begin, again.

I’m sipping my coffee and ignoring (as much as I can) the chronic pain of my osteo-arthritis, which radiates upward from my spinal fusion, which was done years ago, when the state of the art was quite different than it is today. I knew then that my surgery was a new approach to the problem, and that some outcomes were unknown. The goal was to prevent me from ending up in a wheelchair partially paralyzed, and to allow me to continue to serve on active duty (Army). I guess for most values of success, my surgeries were a great success. I’m still walking. I did continue to serve (was even deployed to war in the 90s’), after a period of convalescent “retirement”, although I got “RIF’d” after that war (which broke my heart, but is an altogether unrelated story). So, generally, I’ve nothing to regret about that surgery if I’m just thinking about those details. But…

…There were consequences – of both the injury itself, and the surgeries that followed. The arthritis started to develop in my spine about 3 years after my surgeries. I didn’t understand why I was in so much pain all the time, and it took a rather stupid amount of time for that to be appropriately diagnosed; I was young. Medical bias being a real thing, many doctors were persistently just as “mystified” as I was. What could be causing my pain? How could I have arthritis at my young age? I still feel frustration and annoyance by that lack of curiosity, and lack of diagnostic skill (or persistance). Pain they could not feel themselves did not matter to them.

Then, there were the other things… the persistent chronic itch below my left shoulder blade, that I couldn’t quite reach and that scratching didn’t ease. A “phantom itch” that still bothers me occasionally (CBT really helped with that). A chronically cramped muscle down low on my back, on the left side of my body, most likely a result of the disturbed section of musculature attaching to my spine being put back “not quite in the right place” during my surgery (to make room for the hardware that was there for a year) and which healed into a new, less than ideal, location. This, too, still bothers me, often. Most of it I had to “figure out” in pieces, with limited help from too many doctors, and a lot of study. Sexual challenges (both neurological, and also to do with practical matters like lubrication) that were awkward to discuss were another thing; I was past 60 before a physician finally said, with some surprise, “of course that’s related to your spinal injury” after looking at my records, surgical reports, and images, and listening to me with great care. She seemed so matter-of-fact about it, I ended up enraged for days that no one else had said as much. I went through some shit over that issue with more than one lover, I can tell you. Turned out it wasn’t “my fault” or “a lack of desire”, or anything I could actually do much about; I have a spinal injury. Duh. I spent a few days moping around pretty pissed off about it.

What I thought I understood.

Why am I on about this, today? It’s to do with perspective and knowledge, and how those create our understanding (or don’t). I knew coming out of my surgery all those years ago that I had a permanent “30% stenosis”, and I felt that I understood what that meant. I mean, words having meaning, and I knew the meanings of the words…so… I understand? Don’t I? I thought I “got it”. My lack of real understanding was stunning, and it would be decades before that changed. It wasn’t actually a doctor that changed my understanding. It was math – and a moment at the dining room table with my Traveling Partner; a “lightbulb moment” to do with circles, that was completely unrelated to my spine, my injury, or my pain. lol (Pay attention in school, kids – math matters, and it’s useful stuff.) Something clicked.

What I hadn’t understood, in spite of seeing the images, reading the reports, and discussing with doctors, was what my stenosis meant in my case, specifically. For many years, I imagined 30% percent stenosis as a uniform 30% reduction in a circular area. (I felt pretty stupid when my understanding changed.) Firstly, the spinal canal as a “tubular structure” is not a beautifully perfect mathematical cylinder wherein a slice would appear circular. Not at all. It’s quite different than that. Also, and more importantly, my injury (which crushed two vertebrae, and broke off a spinous process which was then forced into my spinal canal by the impact and subsequently could not be removed) and the repair of that injury did not result in anything like a uniform reduction in area all the way around. Not even close.

Geometry for the win. lol

Reality doesn’t care what we believe. Our pain doesn’t care what we think we understand about our body. Reality is. Pain is. Conditions are what they are regardless of our understanding. So, for years I had struggled with symptoms that made no sense to me – because I so poorly understood my condition – and which I could then not clearly articulate to doctors, who may also not have understood my condition, because (let’s just be real about this, eh) doctors are also human and also have limitations to their own knowledge (and limitations on the amount of time they can spend reading patient histories with the care needed). I understand more/better now, but… I’m still limited by all the things I do not know. I still live within a reality that I perhaps only partially understand because of those limits.

…And reality doesn’t care at all what I understand…

Our perspective and our knowledge limit our understanding – but reality goes on being real, regardless of what we think we know or how we think we understand the world around us.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Living with the pain is pretty much a requirement. There is no option to live without it, at least not now, not really. I do my best. Maybe that reality will change at some point in the future? Technology changes. Medical progress is made. I’ve learned to practice fairly skillful pain management in the meantime. I’m not complaining, not really. Good self-care and skillful pain management may not add up to a “cure for pain” – but it does help.

I sip my coffee thinking about my Traveling Partner, his injury, his surgery, his progress… he’s come so far, so fast, relatively speaking (although I know it doesn’t feel that way to him). We both deal with pain, and I don’t personally see a future where that’s not a thing we deal with, each having our own experience, each doing our best. I feel fortunate to have a better understanding of my injury than I once did. I’m grateful for a conversation at the dining room table about math and circles and ratios and areas, and grateful for a partnership that understands pain and makes room for love anyway. Grateful for love. Things could be worse.

I look out the window. My mind wanders away from the pain I’m in – probably a change for the better. It doesn’t do to dwell on the pain. Don’t get me started about this fucking headache. I sigh quietly and glance at my calendar, and the clock. It’s time to begin again.