Ick

It was never my intention to go this long without writing. I know that I don't have a long time before my project ends, and this is the last time to start slacking on my notes of the project.

In the past month, I have been visiting doctors. I have actually visited a few different specialists, trying to get an answer to my pain.  This intense pain has been going on for over three years, but it really peaked in the past two weeks.

One day at work, while I was standing up teaching, I burst into tears. The muscle in my leg had contracted so fiercely, I was barely able to breathe. The pain was shooting through my leg, and I felt unable to move. This is happening while taking muscle relaxers and pain medications.  I was not sure where to go from here, but I had to do something.  After my history of the wheelchair, braces and cane, I was NOT going back to using a device to help me walk. I am NOT giving up my independence without a fight.

The problem of pain meds is that I need to remain alert while teaching.  The goal is to find the medication that relieves the symptoms while allowing me to stay focused on my job.  This is hard when the spasms are so strong they are causing bruising.  

Leaving my job is not an option. I love teaching, and I also have to provide a home and a life for my children. I am their only source of support (besides the obvious "support" from my family and friends), and I cannot bend on my work because of discomfort.  Even on days when I am miserable and can barely move, off to work I must go.

I try to be mobile, and do as much as I can.  It actually helps to exercise (within reason), so I am working on exercising with my students.  I need to keep my body active but rested, and this is a fine line I teeter along.  Until a treatment comes along that will help me with the pain, I am forced to toss all the plates up in the air and try to juggle.

A treatment was recommended at my last visit with the physiatrist.  It was actually a treatment that was discussed years back, but I really didn't think about it since I didn't believe I was getting out of a wheelchair or returning back to work.  The treatment is a spinal cord stimulator, nor neuromodulator.  The device is implanted in my back, with electrodes planted along the nerves in my spinal cord.  The goal is to send out electrical signals that block the pain signals of my back and legs. Instead of feeling pain, I will feel a steady buzzing or humming feeling.  I remained skeptical, because all treatments before have been miserable.  I am either too doped up to function or screaming in pain.  There have rarely been days that I have a feeling in the middle.

So, now I get to decide if this is something I am ready to try.  I wake up throughout the night, screaming in pain.  I find myself limiting my activity because of the pain it might cause.  I can feel myself becoming prisoner again.  I think it's time for a change...

I have continued to work on the project, but have taken a bit of a mental break while I dealt with these issues.  I do have one bit of news to provide: To reach the goal of raising $1,000 for charity, we did decide to hold a big birthday bash and collect donations.  There is a local band I am talking with about playing a concert at the party. This could turn out to be quite a shindig that would raise money for increasing creative experiences for all students in Moore County (in light of the fact that art is gone...).

Pain, Pain, Go Away...

First of all, I realize that a lot of my recent posts don't mention the ongoing project of 15 Before 30. I am going to create another post later tonight that will provide an update on the project.

Two weeks ago I had a leg surgery. It was a relatively simple procedure, and I was told I would be back to my old self in a couple of days.  This same procedure was supposed to be the start of a two-part surgery that would wrap up my 2.5 years of pain.  This was supposed to be it! I would be free!

For those of you that have known me for a while, you know I have lived with pain. Well, for some of you that know me, you still may have never heard about it. I was miserable, but I tried not to complain too much.  I remember visiting a specialist, and after him asking me the same question for the thousandth time: "Rate your pain on a scale of 1 to 10." I screamed "14!!!!"

Pain can do terrible things to your body.  It makes you mentally miserable, it limits your daily activities, and it cuts you off from your social circles.  It's even worse when the wounds are healed, and the pain lingers.  There isn't a cast or a bandage for people to see.  They assume you made a miraculous comeback, and nothing can stop you!  Pain doesn't work that way for me.  I am fearful it will always be my companion.

When I started running, I knew a little trick.  With fibromyalgia and chronic pain, you can sometimes overwork your body, and it short circuits the pain response.  I really had that going for me for a few months, and I was feeling better than I had in years!  No medications or anything--just intense exercise and eating right.

Then the leg issues cropped up. Surgery #1, like I said, should have been a couple of days of recovery.  Two weeks later, I still have terrible pain in the leg.  I walked, I wrapped, I propped, I did everything they told me to do!  I have severe almost-painful numbness on my lower leg, and it feels like all the nerves have been fried. A blanket on top of my leg at night causes intense pain. Great...

Wednesday was surgery #2. It was supposed to be very similar to surgery #1, and the recovery time should have been short as well.  I knew better this time, and realized that the recovery might change from a few days to two weeks.  After a terribly painful procedure (I was only partially sedated), I was told it would be a six month recovery.

Six months.

Six months?!?

There were a lot of emotions that ran through me on Wednesday, as well as a lot of Valium.  I knew that some of the emotions were exaggerated from the medications, but others were real.  I had finally gotten my life and my body back together.  I survived the attack and recovery, I survived a divorce, relocation, and new job, and I had been doing well pushing myself physically.  Now, it was like a blow to the stomach.  Why don't they just chop off my leg now?

Ok, that was too dramatic.  But the reality was, I didn't know if I would ever get back to where I was, if I would ever heal and be the person I wanted to be, and if I would get to have the life I have been dreaming about and planning.

There was a lot of tears.

I realized that I have no control over some things that happen in my life, but I can choose how I react.  I am doing exactly what the doctor has told me, and will be taking it very easy.  This is going to be hard when I am used to speeding through life at 100 miles an hour.

I am going to reevaluate a few things.  There was a selfish response on Wednesday, and I'm not really proud that it was one of my first thoughts:

I thought about the recovery, and the unknown.  And I thought about relationships.  Who would sign up to deal with these damaged goods?  I was finally to the point where I could entertain the idea of a long-term relationship again.  Why would someone knowingly get involved with me when there was a lot going on.  And I feel it's only fair that people would know what they are getting into.  I am being dramatic again, but I feel like a leper of sorts.

So, this post isn't positive and upbeat.  We all have our rough times in life.  This has been my week.  Really, this has been a flashback of the past three years for me.  The three years I thought I could finally put behind me.

But there is something positive that has come of it.

Events like this do weed out the people that are not invested.  They tell me who wants to stick around, and who can't handle the trouble.  We've seen it in the past already.  So I will take this as an experience that will hopefully show me something new and different about myself, and even those around me.

I have contemplated adapting my 10K goal, but I don't want to change plans yet. It's like giving up. I am not ready for that yet...

And I have seven more months before my birthday. A lot can happen in seven months...

Perspective and Sacrifice

This week has been terribly busy.  I traveled 849 miles to visit family in western New York.  On the road, I did a mental back-track, and realized I had not been back to New York in eight years. A lot changes in that much time--I was married and now divorced, graduated with two degrees, I accumulated two kidlets, and I have a different perspective on the world around me.

Every family has strange dynamics, or at least a crazy uncle hiding somewhere.  My family is incredibly fascinating, but we all have our quirks.  It's always interesting to sit back and observe at family events.  I can see genetic and learned likenesses, as well as some very drastic differences among close siblings.

I thought about perspective, and how a lot of our opinions about life come from our background knowledge on the subject.  This must be the obvious reason my father and I have a drastic difference in views on politics--he was born in a different era, and was one of six children that lived in poverty.  He worked to rise above his circumstance and create an extremely successful life.  I work hard to achieve my goals, and came from humble upbringing, but I am also one of two children that lived for the most part in the upper-middle class.  He is an engineer with an analytical mindset; I am a teacher with a very holistic and social perspective.  We see the world through two different lenses.  Thankfully we are well-adjusted enough to appreciate what the other has to say, so our discussions are usually productive and supportive.

I will say that through the interactions that I observed, there is a lot of love in a family that has struggled.  There is a lot of pain from a lot of different angles (again, that happens in most families).  Bad things happen in life, and people cope in different ways.  Some people make a productive comeback, and others curl up with their excuses.  For the most part, we don't worry about these interactions until we all come together.  It is at that point that I sat back, looked around, and saw who was thriving, and who was merely existing.

I am not up on a pedestal, and I don't claim to be healed from pain.  But I do realize that I hurt from many problems I caused myself, and know that I have to do something to fix my problems (or try better not to create pain).  I guess it's with that perspective that I can look at other people in the most objective fashion for being related to them.  I know what it's like to hurt, and what it's like to heal.  I have wept uncontrollably, and I have also had to suck it up and move on at times.

I will say that for these same people that all hurt from different wounds--there is a tremendous amount of sacrifice that happens.  It is almost as if everyone goes off to tend to their own pains, but come together to support (well, for the most part).  I will give you a fairly vivid example:

My grandfather is a hard man.  He lives with a rigid set of ideals, and honestly expects the world to conform to his opinions.  He has been married to my grandmother for 50 years, and between them they have had enough pain to create a Lifetime miniseries.  He detests Chinese food, because he believes domestic animals are the main meat source for all Chinese restaurants.  My grandmother has not been doing well, and we tried to perk her up by suggesting a gigantic family outing at the local restaurant.  My grandfather created a fuss, and at first refused to pay money to eat someone's pet.  We really believed he would put an end to this idea, and his firm grasp of control would eventually bend our food decision.

This seems like a trivial moment to mention sacrifice, but he did give in and accept we would be eating at a restaurant he couldn't stand.  Some people can sacrifice great things in their life, or even life itself.  For him, it was the risk of eating Fido.  That meant a lot, in a very twisted sort of way...

It did make me think about sacrifice, in all forms.  I know that Easter is tomorrow, and sacrificing food choice is not symbolic of some crucifixion, but I do think making sacrifices of some sort is therapeutic.  I think taking a moment (hopefully often) to step outside oneself and make a decision based on the welfare of another--that is where love happens.  And that is where real growth happens.

Which brings me to marriage... Yes, I went from eating dogs, to Jesus, to marriage... Go with me here...

Marriage is a blend of perspective and sacrifice.  We both come into the picture looking through two very different lenses.  We bring unique life experiences, ideas, tastes and opinions.  We hope that we have common hopes, goals, dreams, or at least respect the differences between us.  Over time, perspective changes, and we realize what is important and what is trivial.  That is when sacrifice becomes most important in a relationship--when we recognize that something is trivial, but we are willing to do it because it means the world to our partner.  Many marriages fail because relationships become very egocentric--we wonder what the other person can do to make us happy, content, successful, etc.  We don't stop to think what we could do to support, lift up, and help the other person achieve their dreams and goals.

I talked to someone yesterday about relationships, and he put it into great terminology.  He said he didn't want to simply share a house with someone.  He wanted to invest in his partner, and wanted the same in return.  Think about it: if you are looking at investing in a project or business, you will learn all about the idea. You will devote time and make sacrifices to make sure it succeeds (so you will reap the benefits). Relationships and marriage are both definitely investments, and ultimately sacrificing the idea of "me" for "we."

I do believe that people can come from drastically different worlds, but can appreciate their differences and learn to live together.  Not just in a marital sense, but in work, friendships, etc.  But it does take sacrifice, and it does take respecting differences.  Recognizing that you care for another person, and putting their welfare above your own for even a moment--it can do amazing things.

I have many great memories in my life, and many painful ones as well.  The wounds are deep, and will take plenty of time to heal.  I have all of the time in the world, and know this journey will not be complete overnight.  Luckily, through all of the grief I have endured, I have been given the ability to see life from different perspectives, and also to appreciate sacrifice.  I know I have made sacrifices, but I see clearly now that I have wonderful family and friends that have sacrificed greatly so I could succeed.  My success now has come from a joint effort over all of these years.  These words of love and support heal me more than anything I can do on my own.  And so, I move forward from here, traveling 849 miles to return home.  Coming home from this journey, I will hold dear to me the memories of my family, and how they have changed over all of these years.  

A lot has changed in eight years... There are new buildings in this old town.  There are family favorites that are closed down and up for sale.  In the past eight years, I have gained a life and lost one as well.  The world keeps changing, whether you actively participate or not.  I would love to take a moment to come up with an eloquent quote, but I am tired, and fairly content with what I have resolved  in my heart.  So we will leave it at that for now...

Tomorrow is another day.

On Pain...

"Given the choice between experiencing pain and nothing, I would choose pain."

                                                                                                                      ~William Faulkner

I have had to think long and hard about this post.  Not because I don't have anything to write on the topic of pain, but because I have always been taught to suck it up and walk it off.  I am an emotionally-intense person, but one thing I was never supposed to do is let someone see me hurting. I once walked on a broken foot (broken in seven different places) for a week before seeing the doctor.

As you can imagine, the experience of the past three years has been eye-opening.  I dealt with more physical and emotional pain than at times I could bear.  People would tell me that it was all just making me stronger.  I wanted to punch them in their faces.

Pain is an interesting sensation.  It is always a warning--that something is causing us distress or torture.  I remember watching an episode of the BBC Sherlock series, and remarking at the limp that Dr. Watson produced.  It all came from psychosomatic feelings he hadn't dealt with.  I thought that it was foolish, but part of me knows that such a thing can be very real.  Over the past few years, I attributed much of my physical pain to an emotional wound that needed time to heal.

I know being physically attacked is never a field day.  Being emotionally injured during that time was a second blow.  Add to that the vulnerability and lack of security that goes with not working, and I was a mess.  I remember at my worst I was on Percocet 10's four times a day, with tramadol buffers.  I was on valium, muscle relaxers, and tons of seizure meds.  I honestly don't remember much of a year of my life.  I wonder now if I would have survived if I was really aware of all that was happening.  I remember talking to a therapist that told me the mind only lets you deal with so much of a trauma or memory at a time.  I think the medicine and my mind did a good job of keeping me from losing my sanity.

In summer of 2011, all of the medicines stopped.  I decided that I was going to overcome everything now that I was starting a new teaching job.  My mobility had improved significantly, and I knew my emotional health was looking great.  I thought I could take on the world!!

What I forgot was that I would have pain the rest of my life.  It was a reality I had to accept.  I could pretend that I was a magical creature that found a cure, but that would be deceiving myself.  It always drives me crazy when parents deny their child has a disability.  Now I understand it--I was trying to mourn the fact that I would not have that "normal" life everyone else had.  I was shortchanged, and I tried to prove something to myself by going cold turkey.

By September, I can remember showing up to my doctor in misery.  I hadn't slept in weeks, and I honestly could barely move.  The hardest part about the pain is that no one could see it.  I didn't have a broken leg or a black eye.  And I pretended like everything was normal so no one at my new job would learn my secrets.

The doctor wondered why on earth I had gone off the medications.  I told her I was out to prove something, and had failed miserably.  So, we started back on some light stuff, knowing that was going to make me a functioning human being.  I liked the sound of "functioning."

I got back into running, and have really enjoyed my experiences.  With the help of my trainer, Jesse, I have been able to make incredible progress!  I will not lie- I have been in terrible pain every day.  I have two leg surgeries coming up, but I really want to make good progress before I am side-lined.  

I will admit to something though: sometimes feeling pain is all that makes me feel alive.  I know it sounds completely strange, but it is when I feel the results of a run that I feel most alive.  Maybe it is because I went through a few years where I felt NOTHING.  Maybe because I know in a few years I will not be able to feel this pain again.  I don't want to sound like a freak, but it is when I am sore and hurting that I feel the most alive.  I guess that is because I know I have pushed my body to do something it couldn't do, and may never do again.

I look back at the times where I was numb to the world, and look to the future and the scariness it holds. I think to myself, if given the choice, I would most definitely choose to feel the pain.