I’m taking a minute after my walk, this morning, sitting quietly with the sensations of leg muscles taxed by my pace, and skin chilled by wintry winds, slowly recovering in the warmth of the car. Switching back from my boots to my sneakers with fingers numbed from the morning chill felt awkward and clumsy, and being mildly out of breath from the modest uphill bit of trail back to the parking lot was uncomfortable, but I also feel exhilarated by the freshness of the crisp morning air, and the sense of purpose that lingers even now that I am no longer in motion.
The day looks likely to be a chilly one, but the garden continues to beckon me, and as much as I do love sitting around hanging out with my Traveling Partner, it’s not healthy to overindulge in that favorite activity. lol I consider stopping at a nursery on the way home for some bagged compost to add to the garden before I plant Spring seeds… No reason to let a drizzle stop me; it rains a lot around here, and it’s often the wise choice to go ahead and do things anyway.
… Do the things! (There is longevity and wellness in the effort, and far too much of who and what we are functions on a “use it or lose it” basis.) I remind myself how much fitness truly is packed into the many small day-to-day tasks upon which good quality of life is built. I remind myself to treat sitting around indulging in sedentary pleasures as I might treat indulging in sugary treats; very sparingly. Do more. Keep at it. Finish something and move on to doing something else. There are verbs involved, and sometimes the effort doesn’t seem “worth it”, but avoiding the effort is potentially a slow slide towards being unable to do when the time comes that I must. These are not new thoughts. I find value in repetition for reinforcing the need to do the verbs, is all.
The crisp damp morning aggravates my arthritis. I’m looking forward to a luxurious long hot shower and clean dry clothes. There’s laundry to do, and I have a plan to make stir fry for dinner tonight. It’s not always easy to push past physical pain to stay moving and active… But it’s worth the effort.
I sigh quietly. Finish my coffee, and get ready to begin again.
I’m sitting quietly in my hotel room. It’s well-past any sort of reasonable time (for me) to have a cup of coffee. So… I make a cup of tea. I sip it slowly, hoping it doesn’t cause a restless night, enjoying the warmth of it in my hands, anyway. I breathe, exhale, relax, and wonder how things are over at the hospital? It’s past visiting hours. I stayed with my dear friend for much of the day, after arriving shortly after visiting hours began. It was a good day for both of us, relative to where we each are in our life and circumstances. I took a break at one point to make room for the painful intimacy of important conversations about where and when and things of that sort. I’m not “decision-making family”, so excusing myself seemed the most appropriate way to proceed. Aside from that, we spent the day together, my dear friend and I, while family and her bestie came and went, and even as my dear friend napped, finally getting some restful sleep (she’d been complaining about the sleep deprivation practices that are not uncommon in hospitals and suffering from a lack of healthy deep sleep for some days). Eventually, family and my dear friend’s bestie returned from errands and things that could not be put off for later, and visiting hours began to wind down. I made my goodbye’s all around, and headed back to the hotel.
…I think about something my Traveling Partner said to me in a message earlier today, in response to my bitching about the bare bland beige hospital decor, “Hospitals treat diseases, not people.” I considered the small things I saw not being done (that surely could have created a more healing environment…) the lack of windows with views in patient rooms, the lack of art on the walls, the lack of anything at all to do while… waiting. People in hospitals do a lot of fucking waiting around. People – patients – in hospitals are often incrediblybored. That’s so unhealthy for human wellness, particularly when there is no way to alleviate it. Nothing to do. I remember it from being in the hospital, myself; the endless maddening boredom. Then there’s something hospitals could do without… the fucking endless beeping of various monitors and machinery. G’damn, it was bad. Ceaseless. Inescapable. Nerve-wracking. Through cat-nap after cat-nap, and wrecking every opportunity for deep sleep, I saw my dear friend’s brow furrow with irritation when yet another round of beeping commenced, often in some room several doors down the corridor. Oh sure, those alarms are intended to get attention, but the nurses are human, too, and eventually they tune out the beeping, especially the commonplace beeps that indicate something, but not something urgent. They can tune them out, over time, but how many patients can? The patients haven’t been forced to listen to it long enough to learn to ignore it. If it’s going to get ignored anyway, why the fuck is it being permitted to continue to destroy the rest that vulnerable ill or injured people need so very much?? I admit it – I just don’t get it. It’s fucking dumb, and it’s also rude. While I’m on about this shit, for fucks’ sake don’t let people’s minds just atrophy while they’re struggling with their health! Make a point to engage their minds, and give them a way to entertain themselves! Be patient enough to wait around for the answer to a question you’ve asked, yes even if that patient has trouble speaking or expressing themselves! Wouldn’t you want that? Oh, and also? Fucking let people sleep. I can’t stress enough how fucking annoying it is to finally fall asleep in spite of pain or discomfort to be wakened by a cheery loud voice seeking to take vital signs or worse – to ask if you’re sleeping. Hospitals are not helping with that shit. Good grief.
I’m cross on my dear friend’s behalf. I sip my tea, and think awhile. I breathe, exhale, relax, and then let that go. It’s evening now, and soon enough I’ll be getting packed to the trip home. My dear friend is in the care of family and friends who love her greatly. She is so very loved.
I sit quietly, listening to my tinnitus. My Traveling Partner and I exchange “stickers” back and forth in messages: kisses, hugs, hearts, fun little animated characters showing affection . It delights me, and I feel loved. I’m eager to be home, and back in his arms. Unexpectedly, I noticed how much pain I’m in. The weather turned rainy this morning, and my arthritis flared up. I’ve stay caught up on my Rx’s this entire detour from the routine, which is not always the case when my routine is broken. Health-wise, I’m feeling pretty good, generally, so the pain caught me a bit by surprise (though it isn’t truly surprising). I sit with that awareness for a moment thinking back over the day; did I take my pain meds? Those are not “on a schedule”, and keeping track is very important. I look in my pillbox. Huh. I find myself surprised to see that I hadn’t found it necessary to manage my pain earlier today, at all. I fix that, hoping I got to it early enough to avoid fucking with my sleep. It’s been a long day, filled with “emotional labor”. I’m tired, and it seems likely I’ll sleep just fine, particularly if I don’t let myself get spun up over “what if I don’t sleep?”. lol
I take a deep breath and let it out as a sigh. Actually? I’m already tired, it’s just too early to go to bed. I send more kisses to my Traveling Partner and pick up the book I’m reading… seems like a pleasant evening to read awhile, before calling it night. Tomorrow will be soon enough to begin again. 😀
I’m having a restless sort of morning. I’ve stepped through the details of my morning routine, my commute, the start of my work day, and I feel… restless. Like there’s “something more” “out there”, or as if I am unsatisfied with life, generally. It’s an illusion, as much as it has any basis in reality. Emotional weather. I breathe, inhaling deeply, and exhaling slowly, feeling my subtle anxiety lurking in the background fall away ever so slowly with each breath. It’s a practice that works to reduce my anxiety, before it can get out of hand, but it does nothing much to change this strange feeling of restlessness.
…I could plan a camping trip… It’s a bit early in the year for (me to be) sleeping on the ground, but I enjoy the exercise of planning, and I don’t mind planning well in advance – in fact, some places I might wish to camp require quite a bit of long range planning (they’re just that popular, I suppose). On the other hand, I’m not feeling any sort of urgent need to be away from home (quite the contrary). This feeling of restlessness is inconveniently timed. I sip my coffee and think about it for some minutes – what am I “running from”? Something? Anything? Am I tussling with unaddressed urges? No doubt I’ve got my share of those…
The morning sky has clouds, and broad streaks of blue between those. The sunrise surprised me with it’s earliness, and was gone before I gave it much thought. It’s definitely morning, bathed in daylight diffused by the cloudy sky. Pretty. I gaze out the windows awhile, watching the streetcar make the trip around the block, from one stop to the next, heading the other direction. As early as it is, there are already people in the park below me, walking, sipping coffee, sitting on a bench. The water features are bland brown blocks of earth tones, not yet reflecting the sky above in any visible way from this distance (and angle of view). I wonder to myself when the Koi fish will be there, again, and where they go when they are not in the pond. I don’t care enough to look into it further, I’m just momentarily curious.
I breathe, exhale, and relax, taking stock of my pain and considering how best to manage it. I sip my coffee, and pull myself more upright, correcting my posture (again). I think about my Traveling Partner, his recovery, and how much I adore him. It’s hard being injured and being patient with the tediously long time recovery can sometimes take. Some injuries don’t heal quickly. I feel for him and kind of regret coming into the office, when I could be working from home where I could easily do things to care for him and make life easier. I sigh and shake my head when I realize I’d also very much like to just go back to bed and maybe nap awhile… Fucking hell? Really? The day has hardly begun…
…I hear a flurry of negative self-talk comments begin to develop in my thoughts, and put myself on pause; there’s literally nothing whatsoever wrong with wistful thoughts of sleeping in and napping, especially for a woman who struggles to get adequate healthy sleep! I laugh out loud in this quiet room and remind myself silently to “be nice” and treat myself with care and kindness – to do otherwise puts me at risk of losing sight of how I treat others. If I’m a dick to myself, how can I expect to treat others gently and with compassion? It’s something I’ve been working on a lot, lately.
Another sip of my almost-cold-now coffee, and my thoughts slide towards far away friends, and a dear friend struggling with mortality. Maybe that’s really the thing driving my restlessness, I realize; I miss far away friends, and I know I will regret not making time to see them (more often than I do). I find myself wondering if I should simply plan a trip to see my ill friend, and make a point of doing so while I can. It clearly matters enough to fuck with my head. I think that over quietly, and the restlessness begins to ease. Okay, so I got there, eventually. Now to do something about it, I suppose…
I jot down some thoughts for later, before I hit the trail. I’m killing a bit of time waiting for a passing rain shower to move on from here to elsewhere before I start down the trail. I’ve got my boots on and my rain jacket. I’m ready. I’m thinking about how much small changes over time have added up to big differences in quality of life, health, fitness, and my relationships. I put those thoughts aside, and head down the trail.
I take the short trail up to a view point, just to grab this picture. There’s nothing extraordinary about it, I just wanted to.
I walk along noticing signs of Spring, although it seems quite early for it. There are trees already leafing out, and flowers beginning to bloom. Seasonal ponds reflect the sky and the surrounding trees from the calm surface of murky water. The ducks don’t mind the muck, quite the contrary, they seem to enjoy it greatly.
A pair of ducks enjoys a quiet breakfast together. Will there be ducklings soon? I wonder but don’t go looking for a nest.
Yesterday, I had the park entirely to myself, although it was a Sunday. Today, in spite of it being a Monday morning, there are quiet a few others enjoying the trail, and though I’ve done my best to give them (and myself) considerable distance, I find myself pausing along the edge of the pond, waiting for someone to walk on past. They don’t stop at the pond; they see me and quickly walk on past. At this early hour, the majority of the folks on the trail are seeking solitude. This is not the “family hour” of the morning. lol
I walk and enjoy the Spring air, fresh from the rain during the night. I tread carefully on the slick muddy path, and silently thank myself for choosing to walk with my cane this morning; it prevents me from losing my footing a handful of times as I walk. I reach my goal, a particular riverside viewpoint, and sensing the approach of another rain shower, turn back up the trail.
Spring flowers and young leaves are plentiful, already.
As I walk, I find myself thinking again about small changes. I’ve not once hit the trail for the first time in Spring and comfortably stepped along at my best pace for multiple miles, then returned home feeling energized and ready for more. If I’ve been off the trail for a few weeks, I start again a bit slower, and tackle shorter distances of level well-maintained (or even paved) trails and build up to the distances and quicker pace. If I haven’t been writing awhile, I generally start with fewer words, and build a practice of regular writing, before I seek to drop lengthy missives on an unsuspecting recipient of my correspondence. If I’m committing myself to a new fitness strategy, I don’t hit the mat (or the gym) with aggressive energy, seeking to max out my weight, reps, or duration – I start light, and build up to my goal. Lots of things seem to work best with small changes and incremental changes over time.
Small changes are on my mind. New doctors, new images, new results, all of these tend to mean new treatment plans, new strategies, and a different way of viewing (and caring for) this fragile vessel and the limitations it has. Improving on my present wellness and fitness isn’t an over-night single-change solution at all. There’s more to it than that, and even with great care and small changes, my results will vary along the way. It’s a journey. Steps on a path.
So… I walk and think, about miles and fitness and pain (and pain management) and what it takes to get the most (and the most joy) out of this fragile vessel in this one mortal lifetime. Walking is my most reliable form of exercise day-to-day – and I want to go further, faster. I picked up a soft elastic ankle “brace” (more of a stretchy sleeve that offers some compression and support than a proper brace), understanding that the biggest limiting factor for my walking is currently my ankle. So, okay. Small change, and incremental improvement over time – it’s a place to start. 😀 New lab results and images make it clear that much of my pain is due to chronic conditions (and in some cases degenerative), and the “penalty weight” I carry (being considerably more than any estimate of “ideal weight” for my size and age) definitely adds additional wear to my body, and it’s a lot to have to carry for this fucked up ankle, and a lot to support for this fucked up back (and neck)… so I give thought to things like nutritional density, calorie restriction, and small changes that could add up to – over time – less weight to carry around. I can’t say I’m super eager to embrace these changes, but lying to myself about the necessity doesn’t get me anywhere I’d want to go. So, I walk and I think, and I consider and I plan. I’ve already started adding some supplements that may improve my general well-being, bone health, energy… I’ve got a good doctor, and so far her recommendations have been skillful. My Traveling Partner is working on his health and fitness, too; being injured has hit him hard, and he’s taking his health quite seriously. (I don’t feel like I’m making this journey alone, which is also helpful.)
I arrive home still feeling encouraged, hopeful, and eager to continue to make small changes. I sip a cup of tea, a new favorite, and think about the Spring garden. Earlier this weekend, I got out into the garden (in a bit of a drizzle) and cut down the last dead bits of the previous year, and pruned Baby Love (a rose that doesn’t know the meaning of winter, apparently). This morning, I thought about early plantings and decided to make time to plant peas, carrots, radishes, and early greens. It’s time, if the calendar and temperature can be relied upon. 😀 I make a plan and get out the seeds.
…My Traveling Partner sticks his head in the door of the studio to tell me my phone is misbehaving. I offer to reboot the silly thing…
Another lovely day unfolds ahead of me. There are things to do, and in the doing there is healing and potentially improved wellness. I hope to be around for many more years to come, gardening, painting, hiking – and beginning again. 😀
The commute was ridiculously easy this morning. Very little traffic, and it seemed that every driver was alert, and driving safely. It was… amazing. My Traveling Partner is continuing to recover from his injury, and although there is more recovery yet to come, it seems he’s making good progress. This contributes a lot to my pleasant morning, this morning; it’s comfortingly encouraging. I got a good night’s sleep, and no doubt this is also contributing to my outlook on things as the morning unfolds. I’m grateful for the sleep, and the mood I’m in. My appointment, yesterday afternoon, with a new specialist, went very well. I felt heard. I felt supported. What is most unexpected for me, is that I walked away from that appointment feeling… hopeful. Encouraged. Positive. I feel as if real (physical) healing is not only possible, but also within reach. I haven’t felt that way in a long time.
I sip my cup of ice water (I’ve already had my coffee), and look out at the city, still wrapped in darkness. Hope feels good.
I remind myself to take care not to set myself up for failure by becoming invested in some particular outcome (whether it seems within reach or not). I take a deep breathe and exhale. I do it again. Then again. I feel the calm settle over my body. I’m in some pain today, but my headache does feel somewhat reduced in intensity. Placebo effect from simply being listened to and cared for? Perhaps – but why would I undermine this feeling, even if that were the case? Less pain is less pain. I take a moment to appreciate it. Another breath. Another exhalation. Another moment to relax, to reflect – to begin again.
Later today it’s off to an imaging appointment. More images will ideally mean more – or at least more recent – information about whatever is going wrong with my neck that could be causing (or at least contributing to) my persist headache. I feel cynicism, learned helplessness, and old medical trauma competing with the sensation of hopefulness. I breathe, exhale, relax – and remind myself that it’s okay to unpack some of that baggage, and let it go. I remind myself not to carry past pain into future experiences – often easier said than done, but it’s helpful to put into to words to be more aware of the possibility.
I sip my water. The morning will unfold, as mornings do, and the day will become whatever the day will be. It’s not at all necessary to control everything (it’s not even possible). I prepare to “ride the wave” of whatever the day will bring. I get ready to begin again.
