Archives for posts with tag: pain management

This morning an enormous full moon hung overhead as I left the house. I tried to get a good picture of it, which is to say a picture that looked like what I was seeing. This proved quite difficult. The camera “wasn’t seeing it right” – or at least it wasn’t capturing my perspective well, at all. Funny thing is, the camera only sees what’s there. It’s my perspective that’s giving me the beautiful view I’ve got. My brain changes what I see, providing undetected foreshortening, changing the scale based on what seems important to a human primate, things like that. I see a fantastically luminous full moon, very large overhead. The camera shows me what was actually there. I think this is worth thinking about. We create a lot of our experience and what we see and understand about the world. Our perspective may not reliably reflect what reality actually presents.

… Perspective is very personal. We’re each having our own experience…

So, I find myself thinking about the lens through which I view the world. It’s probably worth thinking about.

In the darkness, a man approaches my parked car unexpectedly. This is a first at this trailhead. He appears to be wearing jeans and a T-shirt, which seems strange for the chill of the morning. He begins asking, breathlessly, if I would give him a ride home, and says he’s run six miles, which also seems very strange – running at this hour? Along the highway? I firmly reject the request without opening my window and direct his attention to a nearby bus stop. I double check that my car door is locked, though I know it is. The lens through which I view the world tells me this individual is more likely to be dangerous than not.

Daybreak comes soon, but I’ve become reluctant to walk the trail in the early morning twilight. I examine the feeling more closely, as one might examine a watch under a jeweler’s loupe. Am I overreacting? Being ridiculous? Responding to a non-existent threat? Relying too heavily on past experiences with dangerous strangers? Perhaps, perhaps not. Sometimes we only get one chance to be wrong about something like that.

I sit with my thoughts awhile. I think, too, of my Traveling Partner, and the way our experiences with other lovers, in other relationships, informs our responses to each other in some moment of stress or conflict. We’re each having our own experience. Always have been, whether the experience is shared or not. We see the world through a different lens. Our perspective is our own. Even taking a much closer look may not reveal additional commonality so much as blow up our fears or doubts way beyond what they deserve… but it’s quite difficult to remain aware of it in the moment.

Between daylight and darkness.

I see the silhouette of the stranger in the darkness, lingering between the nearby bus stop and the trailhead parking lot. Why? I feel grateful for the techniques I learned for seeing things in the darkness that I learned as a soldier. So many things I have learned in a lifetime have had lasting utility. Unable to ascertain the stranger’s intentions and uncomfortable with his proximity, I move the car into the more distant parking lot as soon as the gate opens. I wait for daylight. I wait for the sunrise. I wait for a different perspective and more information. It’s nothing personal or even directly to do with that stranger; I’m choosing to silence the alarm bells clanging away along my nerves by reducing the potential threat. Feels like the safer choice.

Strange morning. Nothing really wrong, exactly. Good morning to think about perspective and the lenses through which we view the world. How accurate are those, really? I suppose only as accurate as our experiences hone and polish them to be. Probably not very accurate at all – how could they be, if we’re each having our own experience?

I think about conversations with my Traveling Partner yesterday. Some of those went incredibly poorly. Some were contentious, others loving. There were numerous miscommunications and misunderstandings. We don’t reliably see the world (or our shared experience) through the same lens. We’re different people, having our own experience, lived through our own perspective. It’s complicated by my brain damage. It’s complicated by the medication he’s presently on. It’s complicated simply because being human can be so complicated all by itself.

I breathe, exhale, and relax. Today is a new day.  I am fortunate to love so deeply and to be loved deeply in return. I have an opportunity to do better, to be kinder, to listen more deeply and to practice non-attachment. Perspective does matter, and so does giving people the freedom to have their own (and to have that respected). Another breath. Daylight comes. There’s no sign of the stranger who approached me in the darkness earlier. I feel a sense of relief.

It’s time to begin again.

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.

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.

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.

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…