Soft-Hearted

September 19th, 2011

We have a fly in our house. I saw it buzzing around the window a couple of days ago, but couldn’t get up to swat it.

As it turns out, apparently we have a Darwinian Reject fly in our house. I’m not sure what separated it from its mother at an early age, but it’s little fly instincts don’t seem to be working as it has decided that I am it’s new best friend. It likes to land on my clothing. And if I move around, it just stays there, happily cleaning its feet. If I move around abruptly, it will circle around a little and try landing on me again. Sometimes for variety, it hops from one spot beside me to another, inches away at the most. Pillow, blanket, sofa, back to pillow. The thing has no fear.

I couldn’t help imagining it going “Hi! I’m your new pet! My name is Fred!”. …Which was my first mistake.

Because now I have a housefly who trusts me completely and has a name.

And how the heck am I supposed to kill that?

The best laid plans

September 8th, 2011

Every now and then I try to take on too much (“too much” in this scenario meaning, like, make a phone call, or attend a doctor’s appointment in a reclining wheelchair, or have a quick visit with a friend who has to let themselves into my house because I’m stuck lying on the couch), and after the resulting crash, I tell myself that clearly I need to pace a little better, and take a little more rest time, and not agree to even little things too close together.

And I rest. And I feel a little better. And then I start to think that maybe my condition is improving. And that maybe now I could surely handle a quick visit with a friend.

I am an idiot.

ME/CFS Tips

August 23rd, 2011

This is a decent site for tips for people living with severe CFS (also called Myalgic Encephalomyelitis).

Also probably gives some insight into a few of the functional challenges of daily life, I guess.

CFS Joke

August 20th, 2011

Just saw this elsewhere… Probably sad that it’s so true, but made me laugh.

Exercise for People with Fibro and CFS

Begin by standing on a comfortable surface, where you have plenty of room at each side. With a 5-lb potato sack in each hand, extend your arms straight out from your sides and hold them there as long as you can. Try to reach a full minute, and then relax. Each day you’ll find that you can hold this position for just a bit longer.

After a couple of weeks, move up to 10-lb potato sacks. Then try 50-lb potato sacks and then eventually try to get to where you can lift a 100-lb potato sack in each hand and hold your arms straight for more than a full minute.

After you feel confident at that level, put a potato in each of the sacks.

Identity

August 9th, 2011

It makes me so frustrated sometimes that my insurance company can’t just believe me when I tell them how ill I am, or has to treat me like I’m actively trying to avoid going back to work. Do you know how much I would LOVE to be working right now? How much I dearly want that part of my life back? I want to be able to drive down. I want a desk, and a chair, and maybe a coffee. I want coworkers. I want to be able to have the work life that I had always thought I would.

I was good at my job. And I loved what I was doing at it’s core. I can’t tell you how frustrating it was over the years before I had to leave, just not having the physical or mental energy to do all of the things that I wanted to do. Watching bits and pieces of my social life, home life, and work life slowly fall away because I was clinging on by my fingernails just to try to make it through the day and go on to the next. Killing myself to keep doing the things that needed to be done. Sacrificing my health to keep doing great for the kids, but still dealing with the stress of coworkers who were frustrated with me for not having the energy to do more. Feeling like it couldn’t possibly be so HARD for everyone else, and wondering how they could run an errand at the end of a work day. Not knowing how that was possible, when I could barely get myself home to fall onto the couch.

I know now why it was so much harder for me.

And I miss it.

Every day I miss it.

I still look at things through a teacher’s eyes.

And yet I also know that I could never handle that level of stress and demands with this illness. It is a wonderful job in its way, but a very intense one. High highs and low lows. Which makes me wonder, even if I do recover, if I will ever truly be able to go back.

But I want to.

And so it saddens me today that I’ve realized somewhere along the line I have stopped telling people I’m a teacher, and have started saying I “used to be a teacher” instead.

Wallowing. …But just for a minute, I promise.

August 4th, 2011

I watched a TV show today in which someone tried to live as a paraplegic would for a month, confined to a wheelchair. As they went through it, they spoke with people who had been in accidents of various sorts, and who were trying to come to terms with their new reality. So many of the sentiments of what they said felt so very familiar.

I wouldn’t have thought I could handle it. But you do somehow. Because you just don’t have a choice.

There are times that you shut the door at night and just break down for a while. But then you get back up and keep going. Because you have to.

All you can do is try to be as positive as you can. Because otherwise you’ll never make it through.

There are so many times that some part of my mind is still thinking that surely I’ll wake up any second. That surely this is all a dream.

It happens so quickly, and you realize that it really could happen to anyone. They’re just regular, able-bodied people who aren’t able-bodied anymore.

You hear a lot about people this happens to at first…and then you just stop hearing anything about them.

Don’t assume that they don’t want you to ask about it. They would rather you ask than you assume.

A lot of friends just stopped coming by. The chair is too hard for a lot of them to deal with.

I find, though, whenever I watch things like that, that I can’t help also being struck by the differences. And I’m not for a second saying that it wouldn’t be horrid to have a spinal cord injury. It would be awful. And my heart goes out completely to anyone who has to struggle through that. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. It’s just that parts of watching their experience also drew attention to some of the really difficult pieces of my own existence right now. I try to focus on the positives, I really do. And I hope that venting this doesn’t negatively affect anybody’s perceptions of me. It’s just that some days and some moments things manage to creep through for a while. And I thought that trying to write them down might be a more productive way to handle this than marinading in them on my own. I preface this knowing that it could be much worse. I think often about how lucky I am in so many ways, and how many people with and without this disease are SO much worse off than I am. I truly do value everything I have going for me. And at least I have hope. Six percent is a heart-breakingly small statistic for recovery, but it is something. And though by most accounts more than half the others stay the same or worsen, there is another group that has at least a partial improvement. I may yet get out of this (and I had better, because I’m not sure that I can handle the alternative). But that doesn’t mean now and then it doesn’t get overwhelming, you know?

There was this whole team of rehabilitation workers filmed in the show who were helping the newly injured adjust, teaching them how to be independent, and wishing them well, and sympathizing about how hard it must be.

People finding out what had happened to them immediately had a sense that was awful, and responded largely with sympathy. Most people finding out what has happened to me have no idea what the ramifications are. Many think I’m basically fine.

They went to a support group for people going through something similar. They could go to that. There was even one for friends and family, since there is an amazing amount of strain on people close to someone disabled, who suddenly find themselves in a caregiver role.

The people with some use of their arms could work out the muscles they still had use of, to try to compensate for other limitations. I can’t work out ANY part of my body that way without making myself sicker. Maybe it’s odd, but this was one of the things that struck me most. I guess it would just be amazing to be able to work hard and have it make a difference. The only thing I can really actively do to get better is to do nothing. Which is an incredibly helpless feeling.

Some of them could drive, with the use of their arms. Some of them could push their own wheelchair, and the others could sit up in one, even if they needed to be strapped in. I couldn’t. I am completely reliant on my husband. Every part of me is defunct to one degree or another, and energy used by one body part comes out of the same communal store. And I cannot stay upright.

They could sit and drink a beer, and eat a meal at a restaurant. I can’t. My body can’t tolerate either alcohol or regular food anymore.

They still had their mind. They could think straight, and talk to people, and consider careers and other things they wanted to do with their lives. They could watch TV without feeling the strain of it. They could read as much as they wanted to. They could type up something like this without paying for it later. They could express themselves whenever they wanted to.

I think it was just extra hard because the thread running through the whole show from these people was that they can still do anything they want to do – they just have to find a way to do it. They could trade hard work for increased independence, and I don’t feel like I have that option right now ,but desperately want it. I just want to be able to DO something. I want to be able to work towards getting better in some active way. I want to figure out how to get around my limitations and LIVE. I want to be able to get out in the world again with everybody else.

Hell, I just want to sit up again for an hour without a problem.

I want to be able to talk to a friend for as long as I want to without knowing in the back of my mind that I’m going to pay for it.

I want to use the computer as much as I want, or read all day if I want to. I want to be able to write this stuff without feeling like my head is about to explode from the strain.

I want to be able to watch half an hour about paraplegics and not feel envy.

Still Kicking. …Partially Myself.

July 20th, 2011

Had an Independent Medical Examination for my insurance company today. I have no idea how it went, really. I was as honest as I could be, and crammed in as much information for him as I possibly could in the time allotted. I think I will most likely suffer tomorrow for having tried to talk for over three straight hours (am definitely feeling the burn now, but the long term consequences of stuff like that can be fickle), but am not as completely wiped out as I might have been on a different day. I figure that’s the best I could have hoped for.

Am somewhat anxious now about whether or not I downplayed my level of anxiety too much.

Somewhere, there is brilliant irony in that.

I just didn’t want him to get the wrong idea. I was super nervous in his office, but the whole situation scares the crap out of me. My livelihood is totally at this guy’s mercy, and hinging on what I say to him. That’s a lot of pressure. But isn’t what we were supposed to be talking about.

At the very least, I’m hoping that at least he could tell how much I sincerely want my life back, and how frustrated I’ve been by my physical limitations and their impact on my work.

What he chooses to do with that information… Well,…that’s another matter.

Received via e-mail

June 17th, 2011

First Message: Re the scheduling…_^O^_

Second Message: That was supposed to be a shrug, but apparently Batman will take care of it.

Too Much of a Good Thing

June 10th, 2011

Does any of this sound familiar?  Because some of it totally rings a bell for me…

Why do I end up still wandering aimlessly sometimes when there is nothing more out there that I want to read? I get a lot of good out of the computer, and I am dearly grateful for it now that I’m couch-bound most of the time. It provides a valuable link to the outside world. And most of the time, I am happy using it. …But there are those other times, when I know that there are other things I could be putting my energy towards that are more valuable, and I have already looked at everything I wanted to look at anyway, and it begins to leave me feeling a little lonely and a little irritable (not sure why, but I’ve noted the pattern). …And yet, sometimes when I’m in that state, it’s really difficult to put it away. Why is that? If I’m bored with it, and it’s making me uncharacteristically cranky, why would I not want to close it up? Rationally I should (and do). But there’s something more lurking under there. Something that does not want to let go. Something that either creates reasons to use it further, or resists putting it away even when I’m clearly done. That’s the part that makes me realize something more insidious is probably going on there.  And regardless of the fact that I don’t spend nearly as much time online as some people do (and not much time at all, these days), I don’t like it.  Anything more than what I actually want to be spending is too much.

I know this isn’t a novel concept. I’ve read similar sentiments from tons of you out there before (as we all take turns swearing to cut back :) ). Was just thinking about it again, and figured rather than sit here re-checking things I have already checked, that I would write this instead. And then try to put it aside. I’ve taken steps before to cut back when I thought I was spending too much time with these sorts of things, but it really comes into focus now that my energy is so limited. Now a little extra here and there becomes WAY too much to waste.

The funny thing is, it doesn’t seem to be an addiction to anything in particular, like one would suspect it would be (a la internet gambling, or gaming, or chatting, or what have you). I have an extra draw to sources of social interaction, but overall it’s almost as if part of me just wants to keep using the machine itself. For whatever. Weird.

Maybe someday they’ll discover that the light patterns stimulate some not-yet-understood part of our brains, and we’re helpless putty in it’s electronic hands.

It could happen.

And when they do, I bet I’ll hear about it online.