The holidays can be a rough time for those of us who suffer from non-life-threatening but life-long illnesses. Often, depression is a part of the illness, and sometimes it's brought on because we dwell on all that we can no longer do.
This crashed down on me me like a load of hot asphalt--as a combination of no longer user-friendly arthritic joints and "Fibro burn"--hit in waves as we were setting the table for our Thanksgiving feast last week.
Gathered around our extended and re-extended table were our kids, their kidlets, friends, a neighbor, and a sibling or two, when I realized I'd lifted the last bowl or plate of anything for the day. Our son-in-law stepped in to help even though he has his own set of physical health issues.
Our "almost"-thirteen-year-old and "almost" adopted grandson popped into the kitchen in time to learn how to smash potatoes, stir gravy, and find the bottom of the kitchen sink once more. Hubby and son ferried food from the kitchen to the dining room and daughter jumped in to ferry empty plates to the dishwasher. We got it done.
Actually, they got it done. I was D-O-N-E for the day.
After eating food I'd spent hours preparing but could not taste because wracking pain had overtaken my senses, my Michael helped me hobble off to bed. After he tucked me in I buried my head in my pillow and cried because I couldn't join my extended family to watch Shrek 3. I'd hit total physical meltdown. Pain robbed my body of movement. Pain seared through my muscles when I'd not moved.
Determined to not let osteoarthritis and fibromyalgia steal away time with my family, I gobbled down my allowance of pain-numbing medications early the next morning. While not alert enough to chance driving or operating machinery, I was able to rock the baby, and hug our 3, 4, 7, 8, and "almost" 13, year-olds as often as possible. They played in the middle of the living room floor while I sat in an "almost" comfortable chair, carrying on at least five conversations at once.
Fortunately, part of the crowd had cleared out the night before, and we were down to just the kids and kidlets--who all pitched in to make brunch. Even 20 month-old Abby helped by carrying the napkins to the table. It was a much easier day yet my over-taxed joints and muscles still screamed.
I'm thankful that children don't like for us to always make complete sense. We can make a game of messing up words. Brain exercises are supposed to help us stave off dementia. Right ...
The over-achiever in me had kicked in and Fibro and OA had kicked my ass.
I recently wrote a piece for The Writer's Chatroom's blog entitled The Art of Thankfulness, including my beliefs that we draw to us what we believe we deserve. By that, I certainly didn't mean that I believe I deserve to suffer from this never-ending pain. I do believe that I deserve to be surrounded by loving family and friends often, even if the added responsibilities cause more physical pain. I also deserve to continue on as an avid Freecycler, recycling usable goods rather than filling up our landfills, and meeting new friends along the way.
It's difficult to find middle ground most days. I'm fully aware that I must avoid additional stress--even on deadline days. I'm working on getting my writing assignments started earlier. I no longer can hold down a "real" job, yet Social Security remains unconvinced. Every day holds special challenges, and I strive to meet them to the best of my ability at that moment.
Today, I got a phone call from our neighbor who lives far from his own family and is always included in our family events. He had called to let me know how thankful he was to have been able to share in our Thanksgiving.
Sometimes, pushing through the pain is just worth it. Even if ...
Depression is a slippery slide. I try to find at least one thing to be thankful for every day.
Monday, November 26, 2007
Friday, September 21, 2007
The last few weeks have been tough. The Fibromyalgia pain I wake up with that generally fades somewhat as the morning rolls on is soon replaced by osteoarthritis pain.
I haven't gotten the official report yet, but the X-ray of my right hand last Tuesday is gruesome. I don't seem to have a joint that isn't "messy". No wonder my hands hurt all the time. You have no idea how many prayers I've said, giving thanks for it not affecting my hands. And then it did. With no warning. One day the pain and stiffness showed up and hasn't gone away. It is likely here to stay.
That's hard to take for a writer and painter. I find it so hard these days to hang on to an artist brush, to get it where I want that lovely paint to land on the canvas. My family doesn't even know I've tried.
There have been days that my fingers just won't work. I'd asked my spine specialist if the pain in my shoulders-to-fingertips was the work of new undiagnosed OA or from the OA in my neck. He didn't know, but recommended X-rays. Well, I guess we know now.
As the nights have begun to get colder I can't help but wonder how I'll deal with the cold weather this winter. Last winter was rough.
However, I have had some wonderful times this summer, and look forward to fall. We went to my husband's company picnic last Saturday and I rode a roller coaster for the first time in about 30 years. It was wonderful fun and worth every minute of the next two day's pain.
Sometimes we have to take pleasure where we can.
I haven't gotten the official report yet, but the X-ray of my right hand last Tuesday is gruesome. I don't seem to have a joint that isn't "messy". No wonder my hands hurt all the time. You have no idea how many prayers I've said, giving thanks for it not affecting my hands. And then it did. With no warning. One day the pain and stiffness showed up and hasn't gone away. It is likely here to stay.
That's hard to take for a writer and painter. I find it so hard these days to hang on to an artist brush, to get it where I want that lovely paint to land on the canvas. My family doesn't even know I've tried.
There have been days that my fingers just won't work. I'd asked my spine specialist if the pain in my shoulders-to-fingertips was the work of new undiagnosed OA or from the OA in my neck. He didn't know, but recommended X-rays. Well, I guess we know now.
As the nights have begun to get colder I can't help but wonder how I'll deal with the cold weather this winter. Last winter was rough.
However, I have had some wonderful times this summer, and look forward to fall. We went to my husband's company picnic last Saturday and I rode a roller coaster for the first time in about 30 years. It was wonderful fun and worth every minute of the next two day's pain.
Sometimes we have to take pleasure where we can.
Monday, August 20, 2007
Springtime--with Fibromyalgia and Osteoarthritis
I’m ashamed to say this: I haven’t written much since springtime hit.
As osteoarthritis has taken over in my neck and pain sending units, and probably all the way down to my fingertips—although it’s hard to say which is true because I haven’t yet had X-rays of my shoulders, elbows, wrists, or hands—it has become increasingly harder to mangle words on the keyboard.
This was our first planting season in the new house. (It’s new to us, but not a “new” dwelling.) Husband Michael and I have taken the exterior on a wild ride from ugly-dirty-yellow-with-brown-everything-else to vibrant barn red with avocado and cream shutters and doors.
When my legs wouldn’t hold me up any longer, Michael would bring me a chair to sit on while I painted. When my shoulders or elbows or wrists would no longer move, I’d “sway” back and forth with the paint brush. When my hands hurt so badly I couldn’t hold onto the paint brush, I’d do something else for the remainder of the day—like nap.
We’ve painted, papered, built shelves, and decorated until we only have three rooms to go on the interior transformation. We’ve moved cabinets around in the kitchen, turned a tiny, dismal, master bathroom into a little piece of paradise, and even run the water line for the refrigerator twice because we changed our minds on its location.
It’s fun to say “we’ve” done this and that, but the truth is that husband and son have done all the heavy moving, lifting, and crawling. I’ve done the “pretty” work as I could accomplish it.
As we’ve gotten to know our neighbors on either side we’ve learned more and more of the history of our home. We now understand why the flowerbeds have recurrent ten-foot-long weed tubers that never seem to get completely dug out. We know why the lawn is more like a thistle feeding frenzy than a grassy bare foot-friendly stroll.
While I can no longer use a shovel, I can sit on the ground and maneuver a small trowel. Even on the “bad” days, pulling out a few weeds is encouraging … metaphorically.
I’ve been taking full advantage of all those allergy shots. I’m actually spending time outdoors and enjoying it! And, I’m learning the names of all the perennial flowers as we’ve planted them in the new beds. Today, we actually “planted” a big white metal headboard in our new shade garden under the twisted, artistically and symmetrically-challenged tree next to the little creek that meanders through our property. (We’re going to tell the grandkids that that’s where our flowers take naps.)
Yep, I’ve managed to make all of my deadlines as a freelance writer because no matter how much my muse has dawdled and dinked around or how much I’ve hurt, the thought of disappointing my editors is not something I’m willing to do.
I’ve written epistles to my children and a few friends. I’ve congratulated my friend Ronii on the birth of her eighth child. Yes, eighth! I’ve forwarded funny emails with my comments added.
On The Writer’s Chatroom side of my life, I’ve written many emails to potential guests, and I’m proud to say we’re booked through the end of 2007! And, former beauty queen and debut author Tosca Lee has agreed to be our first guest of 2008.
We’ll also be heavily involved in the “launch” of debut author Jordan Dane. She’s got three books coming out back-to-back next spring. For a writer, that’s the equivalent of launching a 40-foot sailboat you’ve just spent every available moment building in the back yard for five years.
I’ve honored my commitments. However, my fiction writing seems to have gotten buried in the “back 40” right along with my resolve to write every day.
I’m also ashamed to say that my website hasn’t been updated in so many months I’m embarrassed to give out the address. My blogs have become strangers.
So … Renee Barnes (Trailer Park Gazette and The Writer’s Chatroom fame) and I have committed to writing every day—to get ourselves back on track. And just to keep us honest, we’ve also committed to sending each other what we’ve written every day!
So, here it is Renee! I promise to do better tomorrow!
Oh … and August 18th would have been my Daddy’s 76th birthday. Happy birthday Dad! I sure do miss you. Looking back, I realize that he was an undiagnosed Fibromyalgia sufferer, as he had all of the same symptoms and ailments that I have. He buried the pain with Canadian Club rather than Vicadin. Gee, I wonder which is harder on our bodies?
As osteoarthritis has taken over in my neck and pain sending units, and probably all the way down to my fingertips—although it’s hard to say which is true because I haven’t yet had X-rays of my shoulders, elbows, wrists, or hands—it has become increasingly harder to mangle words on the keyboard.
This was our first planting season in the new house. (It’s new to us, but not a “new” dwelling.) Husband Michael and I have taken the exterior on a wild ride from ugly-dirty-yellow-with-brown-everything-else to vibrant barn red with avocado and cream shutters and doors.
When my legs wouldn’t hold me up any longer, Michael would bring me a chair to sit on while I painted. When my shoulders or elbows or wrists would no longer move, I’d “sway” back and forth with the paint brush. When my hands hurt so badly I couldn’t hold onto the paint brush, I’d do something else for the remainder of the day—like nap.
We’ve painted, papered, built shelves, and decorated until we only have three rooms to go on the interior transformation. We’ve moved cabinets around in the kitchen, turned a tiny, dismal, master bathroom into a little piece of paradise, and even run the water line for the refrigerator twice because we changed our minds on its location.
It’s fun to say “we’ve” done this and that, but the truth is that husband and son have done all the heavy moving, lifting, and crawling. I’ve done the “pretty” work as I could accomplish it.
As we’ve gotten to know our neighbors on either side we’ve learned more and more of the history of our home. We now understand why the flowerbeds have recurrent ten-foot-long weed tubers that never seem to get completely dug out. We know why the lawn is more like a thistle feeding frenzy than a grassy bare foot-friendly stroll.
While I can no longer use a shovel, I can sit on the ground and maneuver a small trowel. Even on the “bad” days, pulling out a few weeds is encouraging … metaphorically.
I’ve been taking full advantage of all those allergy shots. I’m actually spending time outdoors and enjoying it! And, I’m learning the names of all the perennial flowers as we’ve planted them in the new beds. Today, we actually “planted” a big white metal headboard in our new shade garden under the twisted, artistically and symmetrically-challenged tree next to the little creek that meanders through our property. (We’re going to tell the grandkids that that’s where our flowers take naps.)
Yep, I’ve managed to make all of my deadlines as a freelance writer because no matter how much my muse has dawdled and dinked around or how much I’ve hurt, the thought of disappointing my editors is not something I’m willing to do.
I’ve written epistles to my children and a few friends. I’ve congratulated my friend Ronii on the birth of her eighth child. Yes, eighth! I’ve forwarded funny emails with my comments added.
On The Writer’s Chatroom side of my life, I’ve written many emails to potential guests, and I’m proud to say we’re booked through the end of 2007! And, former beauty queen and debut author Tosca Lee has agreed to be our first guest of 2008.
We’ll also be heavily involved in the “launch” of debut author Jordan Dane. She’s got three books coming out back-to-back next spring. For a writer, that’s the equivalent of launching a 40-foot sailboat you’ve just spent every available moment building in the back yard for five years.
I’ve honored my commitments. However, my fiction writing seems to have gotten buried in the “back 40” right along with my resolve to write every day.
I’m also ashamed to say that my website hasn’t been updated in so many months I’m embarrassed to give out the address. My blogs have become strangers.
So … Renee Barnes (Trailer Park Gazette and The Writer’s Chatroom fame) and I have committed to writing every day—to get ourselves back on track. And just to keep us honest, we’ve also committed to sending each other what we’ve written every day!
So, here it is Renee! I promise to do better tomorrow!
Oh … and August 18th would have been my Daddy’s 76th birthday. Happy birthday Dad! I sure do miss you. Looking back, I realize that he was an undiagnosed Fibromyalgia sufferer, as he had all of the same symptoms and ailments that I have. He buried the pain with Canadian Club rather than Vicadin. Gee, I wonder which is harder on our bodies?
Friday, May 25, 2007
My Reason for this Blog
Initially my plan was to set up this blog anonymously, ala Miss Snark. (You'd have to be a writer to get the humor in that.) That way I could bitch and complain at will. However ...
As I mulled it over and began to digest my motive for this blog I began to realize that if all I wanted to do was complain, I could re-join the online Fibromyalgia groups, listen to the tales of woe, and thereby promote the self-serving woe-is-me pity party--which was the reason I left the groups.
I am a writer. But there is so much more to my life. I have a wonderful husband, great kids, even greater grandkids (which is what I hoped for when considering eating my young), and a full life.
A FULL life. In spite of having Fibromyalgia and Osteoarthritis.
Yes, I get tired. Yes, I hurt--a lot and often. Yes, I spend much time with doctors. Yes, I take medication. Yes, I must use the motorized carts to do my grocery shopping and then pray hubby gets home from work in time to unload them--before the ice cream melts. Yes, I have a wheelchair to use on those days when I can't manage to walk OR when the whole family goes to the zoo. Yes, I understand my illnesses are life-long and there is no cure. Yes, I get down sometimes. Yes, I deal with depression.
I also do many of the things I always wanted to do but didn't have time for, now that I'm unable to work a "real job". Like read. And write. And take short naps and long bubble baths.
If you have landed here, you were most likely researching either FM (Fibromyalgia) or OA (Osteoarthritis) because you have one--or both--or someone close to you does.
My plan is to be honest, yet upbeat. To be real. To share--often. Even on the not-so-good days.
Feel free to leave a comment, or to comment on a comment.
As I mulled it over and began to digest my motive for this blog I began to realize that if all I wanted to do was complain, I could re-join the online Fibromyalgia groups, listen to the tales of woe, and thereby promote the self-serving woe-is-me pity party--which was the reason I left the groups.
I am a writer. But there is so much more to my life. I have a wonderful husband, great kids, even greater grandkids (which is what I hoped for when considering eating my young), and a full life.
A FULL life. In spite of having Fibromyalgia and Osteoarthritis.
Yes, I get tired. Yes, I hurt--a lot and often. Yes, I spend much time with doctors. Yes, I take medication. Yes, I must use the motorized carts to do my grocery shopping and then pray hubby gets home from work in time to unload them--before the ice cream melts. Yes, I have a wheelchair to use on those days when I can't manage to walk OR when the whole family goes to the zoo. Yes, I understand my illnesses are life-long and there is no cure. Yes, I get down sometimes. Yes, I deal with depression.
I also do many of the things I always wanted to do but didn't have time for, now that I'm unable to work a "real job". Like read. And write. And take short naps and long bubble baths.
If you have landed here, you were most likely researching either FM (Fibromyalgia) or OA (Osteoarthritis) because you have one--or both--or someone close to you does.
My plan is to be honest, yet upbeat. To be real. To share--often. Even on the not-so-good days.
Feel free to leave a comment, or to comment on a comment.
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