September 23rd. It is my grandmother’s 108th birthday. She has not been here for nearly 20 years. I miss her. But, it’s not like she would still be here at 108. My pain is not about Granny.
My pain is not because I miss her. The deal is I’m in pain, physical pain. Pain is wracking my body. Suddenly, I get teary. I am nearing the end of my ability to tolerate it tonight. I say to myself, “Sometimes, it is better to move.”
I think about that, “Yah, but I never know when that sometime will be.” I raise up the chair and begin moving. “It probably can’t get any worse.” I go to see what kind of chores around the house need doing saying the mantra, “It can’t get any worse.”
I made a tactical error today. It's a Saturday. I did too much. I did a little more than two hours of my state job. I went to dinner at friends’ house, and I went to a reading at a local bookstore. I parked the car two blocks away and had to go up and down a flight of stairs. By the time I got back to the car, which was painfully slow, my legs were tingling. The tingling is stunning like I imagine the Aurora Borealis might be if all that energy was placed in one body but not in a good way.
The tingling when bad enough gives way to pain. Sometimes, too much pain. Pain that makes me want to do nothing more than curl up in a ball but that doesn't help either.
On the way home, I said something stupid to my partner. That didn't sit well for either of us. I apologized but I still feel bad. We had ice cream bars when we got home. I laid back in my zero gravity living room chair and read for awhile. But, my hands started hurting and moved from an ache to a sharper pain. Finally, I got to the teary place.
It does not help for me to want to take out my anger about the pain on myself. I spent decades taking my emotional pain out on my body. It gets me nowhere. It won’t help to take physical pain out on myself that way either. Now, I just have to wait. To be patient for it to subside.
Finding a healthy way to express it is causing me to write about it now while I'm teary. At least, someone is listening to me. I know my partner would happily listen but I have nothing new to say. After we got home, I told her that my pain level was an eight (out of ten) if it was anything. What else can I say after that? There is nothing to do about it but wait for it to subside, for the pain medication to kick in, for tiredness to come which hopefully converts to sleep. Even fitful sleep is better than what is happening now.
This isn’t new, of course. It is just one of many no good, very bad moments. Named after a kid’s book we read when our daughter was small. The No Good Very Bad Day. That always seemed like a good way to express the feeling of a bad day. I thought the fact it was a kid’s book helped us all understand that is just what happens sometimes. Then, we start over the next day. Hopefully, with a different outcome.
Ronnie saw me crying. She asked if there was anything she could do. “No,” I said. Then added, “But, actually, I left my tea in the car. Could you retrieve it?” Even a small thing seems big.
Recently, I have noticed things when I’m not in pain that are still alarming. I call it, “The Case of the Disappearing Table.” I have been dropping things at an increasing rate over the last few years. This from someone who could always gracefully catch the ball and catch myself in any fall.
I thought I was getting used to dropping things. I also seem to be unable to hit a garbage can. Even if I am directly above it, the item invariably takes a turn and drops outside of the can. Damn. If I wanted to touch it twice, I wouldn’t be throwing it away.
Anyway, I began to have this experience of putting something on a table or a counter, turning, and having it fall off as though someone pushed it. I do have the presence of mind to know that is not the case. So, I tried to observe what exactly was going on.
It seemed that I could no longer rely on my placement ability. I was in fact placing things on the edge of flat surfaces. I was leaving enough of them hanging off that gravity was exuding its force. I could not take a cauliflower out of the refrigerator, place it on the counter, and turn back to the refrigerator for something else without the cauliflower flinging itself off the counter like it had some kind of death wish. I now make a serious effort to look at the item’s placement so it does not fall off.
This is a strange occurrence when I have spent the vast majority of my life knowing where my body was in relation to other objects. I now have to make an effort when going through a doorway, around a corner, or over the lip of the carpet to make sure I do not bump into some inanimate object or trip over some imagined obstacle. So much for the grace of youth. My grace is gone, and I mourn it. This usually means I have a fine selection of bruises over several spots on my body at any one time.
For several years now, I avoid drinking liquids without a lid. I grew up a fairly fastidious person. I don’t like spills. I don’t like stains on my clothes. However, it began to be amazing how a gesture would lead to spilled liquid. Whether at home or work, I have learned it’s just much cleaner to place the lid on the liquid between every sip to ensure it stays safely in its container.
Some moments, I can’t help but wonder where all this is going. I have been poked, prodded, and tested in a large variety of ways with no clearer picture other than what it is not. Ronnie and I are now excellent at giving each other basic neurological tests as a result of all this testing. One day after having another basic neurological assessment by a doctor, I asked Ronnie if I could do one on her. I was terribly annoyed when she surpassed my own strength and coordination levels. I didn’t call her a bad name, because I love her. But, really?
Finally, it’s been several hours now and some pain medication. The pain is starting to subside. Along with a bit of conversation and some writing, it's now 11:45 p.m. I am able to move from that eight out of ten down to a six. As they say, tomorrow is another day.
I enjoyed what I did today. Maybe, what I did today had nothing to do with the pain. No one knows. Because I am human, I hope that tomorrow will be a better day. I believe and hope tomorrow can’t be any worse. But, perhaps, it will be exceptional. Every now and then, I enjoy my ten minutes of being at peace with the world. It can happen any time, and I will notice.
L’Chaim.
Joceile
9.23.17
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