Archives for posts with tag: pain management
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Prose and Comms

September 14, 2024 //
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I woke gently after a restful night. I made coffee for my still-sleeping Traveling Partner, and slipped away quietly into the pre-dawn darkness, headed to the trailhead and another walk at sunrise.

Not quite daybreak, still a new day.

My Traveling Partner wakes before dawn, and pings me a question. This is two mornings in a row that abrupt communication without any sort of greeting or preamble have interrupted my only reliable opportunity to take a little quiet time for myself that doesn’t require me to take that time away from some other purpose or person. I’m momentarily irritated that I’m not important enough in the moment to at least rate a greeting or a “good morning” before questions and complaints. I’m feeling moody over the lack of consideration for this precious self-care time and puzzled by the lack of awareness that I need this for me. None of my partner’s questions or concerns seem so urgent that they couldn’t have waited until after my walk. I sit quietly after the conversation ends, wondering whether to bring it up, and how I could do so without making drama. Is it worth the potential discord? I could have chosen to ignore the pings until later… seems rude to do that when I know he’s home recovering from surgery and could need help. I feel a bit trapped between circumstances and manners.

…He sets boundaries so easily. Why is it so hard for me…?

I breathe, exhale, and relax, and work on getting back to me, after our conversation ends. This quiet time, meditating, reflecting, writing, and walking, is very much part of how I care for myself and maintain my emotional wellness, and build resilience. It has become comfortably routine, and almost “non-negotiable”. Yesterday’s lack of a walk ended up being something I felt all day.

Daybreak comes, and an opportunity to begin again.

I sigh to myself as I lace up my boots. No colorful sunrise this morning, I guess. The sky is cloudy, and hues of blue and gray. The air is mild and scented with meadow grasses and wildflowers, a very particular fragrance both spicy and sweetly floral. I enjoy it. It reminds me of Oregon, which doesn’t surprise me; that’s where I am.

… I head down the trail, intending to finish this at the halfway point…

I get to a nice spot to sit for a little while. It’s a quiet morning and I have the trail all to myself – a pleasant luxury, and rare on a Saturday, even so early. My neck aches ferociously, and my headache is an 11 on a 1-10 scale this morning. I am grateful to have an appointment with a skilled practitioner later this morning. I’d like to enjoy the day without being in this much pain. It’s very distracting. It pulls my focus away from these words and this world again and again. Most unpleasant.

I thought I had something of more substance to write about this morning. It had begun to take shape as I drove to this place, but distractions and conversation with my Traveling Partner caused my thoughts to unravel too quickly to capture even a loose idea of what was on my mind at the time. No matter; I began again. I tend to “write where I am”. Whether that perspective is geographical, metaphysical, or emotional isn’t all that important. In any case, it is the moment I find myself in.

I sit awhile with my thoughts, not writing, and without any particular direction or theme. Pain sucks. I have difficulty recalling a time when I was living pain free more days than not… How long ago…?  I think I would have to measure in decades. The arthritis in my spine set in sometime in my mid-twenties. It’s been with me awhile – much longer than my headache. I distractedly rub my irritated neck. 9 or 10 years for the neck, I think… Fuck pain. G’damn there’s too much of that in the world. I snarl quietly to myself and yield to the demands of my pain, and take an Rx pain reliever earlier than I usually do. I glare at the cloudy sky thinking it’s likely the weather making the pain worse somehow. I laugh at the thought; it sounds stupidly primitive and superstitious, and not very rational. What do I know about it? I’m just a fucking human primate trying to cope with my pain any way I safely can.

I hear voices up the trail. By the time I get back to the car, it’ll be time to head to the city for my appointment. I think about my Traveling Partner, and remind myself to stop by the pharmacy for his prescriptions on my way home. I feel like I am forgetting something, but I don’t know what. I’d love to spend the day painting, but I don’t see that happening today… I hurt, and I’d just as soon go back to bed.  “Fuck pain.” I say out loud to myself. I don’t want to give in to it. There’s so much I’d like to do.

I get to my feet, and stretch, and rest my weight on my cane for a moment, making certain I’ve “got my feet under me” before I head back up the trail. It’s already time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, art and the artist, autumn, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, The Art of Being, The Big 5, Words

Another Day, Another Moment, More Practice

August 14, 2024 //
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I’m drinking my coffee and catching up on work. It feels an eternity since I’ve logged into work tools, but it’s been more or less a long weekend, just busy and about as far removed from my professional work as it could possibly be. Feels strange, and oddly comforting to be back to work.

My headache woke with me, and it is ferocious this morning. My sleep was interrupted at scheduled intervals through the night to provide my Traveling Partner with care as he recovers from his surgery. The surgery went well. So far the recovery is going well, too, it seems. It’s complicated by volatile emotions on all sides, and the quantity of potentially mind-altering prescription drugs involved doesn’t make that “easier”, at all. Whether tempers or tears, when feelings flare up and escalate, I keep finding my way (unsteadily, awkwardly, doggedly) back to some sort of calm – which feels like progress. I don’t think I could have managed this as well as I am ten years ago. I bet I could manage it better another 10 years from now. Progress. Incremental change over time. We become what we practice.

…I’ll say that one again, because it’s super super important; we become what we practice. If your default is tears, tantrums, and drama, I promise you’ll get very skilled at those behaviors, and those will be the increasingly common outcomes. If you practice calm, you become calm. It’s that simple. (Which is not to say that it is “easy” – it’s isn’t easy at all, and it requires a lot of practice, and persistence.) For me, the hardest part is breaking old habitual behaviors and reactions. I’ve become pretty hard to provoke in the context of my professional life, which is great. I’m often still quite vulnerable to provocation in the context of intimate relationships. (That’s probably pretty commonplace.) Lately, all of it is further complicated by this fucking headache that follows me everywhere.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I’ve taken my meds, had a big glass of water, and I’ve got this excellent cup of coffee. No walk today, which feels weird, but I need to be here at specific times to care for my Traveling Partner. I’m tired – it’s something to be mindful of, because it holds the risk of volatility as my fatigue deepens later in the day. Maybe I’ll get a walk in later? I notice that my thoughts are less than ideally well organized. I’m distracted by my headache, and by my awareness that my partner is in the other room; I’m alert for the sound of his voice expressing a need or a want, or some opportunity to provide him with support. Competing priorities on top of this headache and my fatigue…I could be a mess right now, but I think I’m mostly okay, which is nice to be able to count on, today.

Don’t forget to slow down and enjoy the journey.

Sometimes it feels like the journey from hell to some better place is endless…but…so much of this human experience is relative. I think back on other experiences, other days, other moments. I reflect on the Parable of the Mire. It wasn’t all that long ago that I was truly mired, myself. It has been a long journey – a worthy journey. A “heroes journey”, in a sense. I mean…I am having my own experience, and this is my journey, my tale, my adventure. I have another sip of coffee and think another thought. I reflect on the “wrong notes” and recent missteps, and what I could have done differently. I rehearse “better” (more desirable) behavior in my head, playing out dialogue that went wrong with different words, different reactions, “practicing” different “scripts” for better results more closely aligned with my values, hoping to do a better job of being the woman I most want to be “next time” (there’s always a next time). I remind myself that it isn’t all about me, and that I can’t control the behavior or reactions of others. I think about the importance of non-attachment, and the risk of becoming “fused” with someone else’s emotional experience, and how best to avoid that risk.

…We become what we practice…

…Fuck, I hope the typing doesn’t prevent my partner getting the rest he needs (it’s a pretty quiet keyboard, though)…

I take a moment to think about recent successes. Small things like my Traveling Partner thanking me for good caregiving matter a lot, and they add up over time. I think, too, about progress toward personal goals, like losing some weight (20lbs or so now), and clearing my task list. I give myself some time to sit with successes, joys, and pleasant recollections. (A useful practice for building a more positive general experience and attitude toward life.)

I put my focus back on work. It’s time to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, Brain Injury, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, pain, Parables, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5, weight loss secrets

This One’s Difficult

August 13, 2024 //
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I’m sitting at the trailhead. I meant to be walking, but as I set off, my right leg buckled at the knee. I didn’t fall; I had my cane in my hand and steadied myself… but for the moment, I don’t trust my legs. Life, too, feels suddenly unsteady and unpredictable. I mean, I guess that makes sense; it is.

My thoughts careen through my consciousness. I didn’t sleep well last night. My Traveling Partner needed care during the night and woke me. I was groggy and stupid and not very helpful. I didn’t understand what was needed. Hell, I barely understood where I was in the first place. When my worthless efforts were abruptly dismissed, I attempted to return to sleep… It was nightmares, pain, and wakefulness from there. Less than ideal for the day ahead, which I took off from work to care for my Traveling Partner as he recovers from surgery. My consciousness is scattered, fragmented, and chaotic. I’m tired and fragile.

… I’m also doing my best…

I remind myself that this is only a moment. Temporary. It will pass, and change is. Nonetheless I feel low, beat down, and sorrowful. I’m tired and triggered, reminded of a time long ago and a very different earlier relationship, from which I am grateful to have escaped alive. This isn’t that, it’s just a challenging time and sometimes it’s hard to do the needful sufficiently well. I feel grateful for so many other things – I focus on the gratitude, the positives, and the kind, gracious and appreciative words my partner has shared over recent months. I breathe, exhale, and relax.

… Some things in life just aren’t about me at all…

My tinnitus rings loudly in my ears. My head aches. I observe the discomfort and let my mind move on. It doesn’t alleviate my pain to do so, it just prevents me from making my pain my whole world, for a little while, sometimes. My results vary.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. I sit quietly wondering what the future may hold, and where this path leads. I consider and reconsider what I really want in life, and contemplate whether the path ahead of me leads to that outcome at all… There are things I’d like to change. There are things I regret saying or doing (and not saying or not doing). It’s a very human journey.

… I think quietly about my Traveling Partner on this journey…

My partner pings me, frustrated, tired, and hurting. He can’t sleep and struggles to find any way to be comfortable after surgery. He’s pretty hard to live with right now (understandable), and has insisted that both the Anxious Adventurer and I leave so he can rest. We reluctantly do. What else can we do?

… Fucking hell, caregiving is hard…

I sit quietly, recalling my Traveling Partner before his injury, before his pain became unmanageable. I think about him – and us – in the “beginning”. I wonder how to go about restoring that beautiful vibe, and wonder if it will slowly return because it’s who we are and how we love, or if life has changed us “too much” over time and circumstances? I remind myself, too, that my mood and thinking are colored by recent events and present fatigue and stress. I breathe and let go.

I make room for gratitude, and think about things that have gone well. Doing this is often enough to lift me out of a funk, maybe it will today?

…In any case, I definitely need to begin again.

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Categories Allegories, anger, Anxiety, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, Sleepless Nights, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Perspective on Lived Experience

July 25, 2024 //
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I walked the trail in the chill of the morning. I walked with my thoughts and my tinnitus and my pain, contemplating how easily we “understand” each other without actually being able to truly understand each other. We’re each having our own experience.

It’s pretty easy to think I understand my Traveling Partner’s pain. I have pain myself, and it is chronic and a substantial part of my experience. But, and this is important, we experience our individual pain quite alone. I can’t feel his. He can’t feel mine. Our sympathy, empathy, and compassion are built on our good intentions, our desire to be helpful and understanding, and our perspective on our own pain, which is what we know. Our lived experience may provide us with useful insights, but it may also limit our ability to truly understand.

… It’s fucking hard sometimes…

Yesterday I watched the Anxious Adventurer express understanding of my Traveling Partner’s pain – through the lens of his own ordinary aches and pains, as if the pain of a spinal injury would compare at all. I catch myself doing it, and although the pain of my persistent headache, spinal arthritis, and degenerative disk disease in my neck likely get me closer to real understanding, it’s still not the pain my partner experiences. I can’t know that, I can only guess, listen when he talks about it, and do the work of being humane and supportive and kind. It’s fucking hard sometimes, especially just accepting the fact that truly we can’t know each other’s pain.

… Pain sucks and pain management is complicated by our very broken healthcare system, in which doctors also seem to lose sight of how little they can actually “understand” a patient’s pain, beyond listening, themselves.

We’re each having our own experience. Don’t be a dick about someone else’s pain. You can’t know what they’re going through, really, and it isn’t a fucking competition. It doesn’t matter at all whose pain is “the worst”. Our own pain is always the worst we’ve ever personally experienced, and if all you’ve known is occasional sore muscles or stubbed toes, you certainly don’t know anything much about pain. Be kind. Be patient. Be compassionate. Be gentle. People are suffering and hurting. You can’t know what they don’t share, and you don’t know much even when they do.

I hurt this morning. The chill makes my bones ache. I walk on. It could be worse. I’m doing my best not to take my own pain personally. I have my own way of dealing with my pain. It’s not always effective but it’s mostly enough, most of the time; a complex assortment of practices, medication, and pure seething anger about being in pain in the first place. I push through when I can. When I can’t… I cry. Like… A lot.

… It’s hard seeing my Traveling Partner in pain. I feel so helpless…

… My own pain is barely managed day-to-day…

I sigh and keep on walking. I stop to answer angry frustrated pings from my partner, who is in pain. Pain shrinks his world. It’s most of what’s going on for him, until he has his surgery and moves on to recovery and rehabilitation. It’s a complicated journey. I wish I could do more. I try not to be a dick about his pain and the way it affects him…

There’s another work day ahead, then one more, and a day to run errands… Then I get a short (but very needed) break from caregiving and from my partner’s pain, before his surgery.

… I still have my own…

I take a few minutes to write and reflect. It’s not satisfying. My Traveling Partner is awake and pinging me and needing emotional support. This is a difficult experience and I do what I do; I push my own needs to the side to provide support. I’m irked with the Anxious Adventurer, who hasn’t figured out a morning routine that respects my partner’s need to rest. I’m annoyed in a very human way because this affects my morning experience too. This shit is hard.

… I stifle my frustration. None of this is personal…

This is an endurance race, not a sprint. I try to look at the morning through the lens of opportunity for growth… I just have to begin again…

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Categories Allegories, Anxiety, breathe, forgiveness, Free Will, Frustration, gratitude, health, Healthy Living, Love, meditation, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being, The Big 5

Limits and Journeys

July 23, 2024 //
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It’s chilly this morning.

I woke up quite early, ahead of my alarm. My Traveling Partner was already awake (woke me inadvertently), and in pain. We hung out for a little while before I left for work and for my morning walk. I almost left without my laptop, and did entirely overlook grabbing a fleece, sweater, or hoodie. Did I mention it’s chilly this morning?

I hate seeing my partner in pain. He hates being in the pain he’s in, and even more than that, he hates the limits pain places on his activities and cognitive abilities. There’s so little either of us can do about it. We wait together for his surgery, angry about a medical system that places so many limitations on doctors and patients and the medical care available to people in need. It’s inhumane and ineffective, inefficient and frankly terrible. We endure. Surgery soon, then the painful and annoying recovery journey can begin.

…We travel together…

Sometimes shit is hard. Sometimes less so. Life is complicated. I feel fortunate to have my Traveling Partner on life’s messy and painful journey. We’re in this together.

The morning chill caught me by surprise and I hustled down the path briskly to warm myself. There’s a mist clinging to the low places along the marsh. I walk on with my thoughts.

Misty morning.

This mortal life has limitations imposed by circumstances and events or enterprises beyond our individual control. We often place additional, unnecessary, limits on what we do, don’t do, can or can’t do, or have, or be, or experience. It’s a bit strange, isn’t it? I walk thinking about self-imposed limits. I remember a much younger me, talking myself out of trying pastels, when I was first “developing my voice” as an artist. Why? I judged myself (in advance of practical experience) to be “too messy” for pastels. I never gave them a chance, in spite of being fascinated by the luminous purity of the pigments. Life would later place other limits on my artistic endeavors, but truly? I got there first with my own. (Why?! Dunno. It’s very human, I suppose.)

I walked along thinking about the journey that life has taken me on. The journey I share with my partner. The limitations of the paths we’re on, individually and together. Sometimes it’s not at all clear where the path leads, or why we face the limits we do.

… Next weekend, some solo time on the coast, with my pastels, my tinnitus, and my thoughts. I don’t know what will come of it, and I find myself wondering if I am being a dick to go, with my Traveling Partner suffering as he is. The Anxious Adventurer will be home, and providing caregiving… But is that even reasonable to ask, really? I’m suddenly overcome with self doubt, even though I know how much I need the downtime.

… It’s an endurance race, not a sprint…

… Self-care really matters…

… I turn back up the trail to head to the car. It’s time to begin again, again… already…

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Categories Allegories, art and the artist, breathe, Free Will, gratitude, Love, meditation, Metaphors, Mindfulness, Moments, more than a little bit of bitching, Oregon Trails, pain, Perspective, Post Traumatic Stress, Practices, Relationships, solo hiking, Summer, The Art of Being
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