Tweaking...

Over the past few days I've been absorbed with tweaking my Way story.

I think I've honed it okay -- adding some significant incidents, structuring it to hopefully be a bit more clear, and subduing some of the over explanation.

I pondered that a bit -- over explanation.

And then I thought, Well fuck that. It's my story. I can do as I damn well please. :D

I've had fun working on it. The story seems so clear to me at the moment. Vivid. Sharp.

But maybe I'm deceived, and it's still just clear as mud to an outside reader.

Here's the link to Part 1 of 4.

~*~

I also completed another blog project. I better organized my presentation of the For The Record Knapp series.

I say "completed," but it probably needs some more tweaks.  

It was freaking exhausting to tweak what I tweaked.

What a bizarre, insane, mind-boggling series of events.

Eyes & Hearts ... & The Phoenix

I've mentioned "walkering" in some previous blog posts. Most of my walkering happens with four-legged friends. We always "walker" at the Greenway. Two of these friends are disabled. I call us "abled-differently" comrades.

~*~

This is one of my pet friends. He's blind, but you'd never know it on our walkerings. He's a walker-mush dog. ;) Sometimes I joke, "It's the blind leading the crippled." So far, we haven't fallen in a ditch!





This is another pet friend. He has a heart condition. So when we walker at the Greenway and he gets tired, he rides. Instead of Biker Dude, he's Walker Dude! All he needs is some goggles and an embroidered, black leather vest. ;)






~*~

My walker's name is The Phoenix. Thus the title of this piece.

~*~

Number 16

I received my routine lumbar epidural today, number 16.
Along with my routine neck injections, number I-don't-know.

I received my first epidural in either December, 2013, or early January, 2014.
I should look that up sometime.
We started out with every 6 weeks, then I had to move to every 12 weeks.
I can't recall if my first epidural was combined with neck shots.

I started getting neck injections every 6 weeks in 2015, I think it was.
We added them between the every-12-week-epidural-neck-shots-combo so I wouldn't have to boost my prednisone as often.
It worked and still works.
I don't receive epidurals in my neck.

I hope this number 16 combo works as well as number 15 on January 23.
This round I won't be starting a new drug during post-week 3, like I did last round.

The new drug is for my bone-density.
One of the side-effects of steroids is bone loss.

I reacted to the drug I tried during last round.
No surprise there.
So I stopped it, after 4 weeks.
Side effects began abating 9 days later.

This round I will try a different bone-density drug in post-week 10 instead of post-week 3.
Like the last round, I'll observe and take notes.

My life is a science of notes, or notes of science, or something.
I get tired of it.

Plus I'm still recovering from surgery.

But I won't think too much about all that for now.
I want to enjoy the upcoming relief as much as I'm able.
Even if it's just a few weeks.

I know some folks get little to no relief with whatever chronic condition they might manage.
I'm lucky in that regard.
I'm thankful for my "good" weeks.

~*~

I continue to bike.
But I'm not back to pre-surgery ability yet.
And I'm okay with that, for now.

Back in October I set a goal.
Ten miles a week with my rolling walker.
Forty miles a week on my bicycle.
That was wishful thinking.

Now my adjusted goal for 2017 is 1200 miles on my bike.
Which means I need to bike an average of about 31 miles a week.
That's doable.
It's less than last year, due to on-going recovery from surgery.
And I'm okay with that, for now.

I haven't set an adjusted goal for walkering.
Maybe I'll just try to walker regularly, as a goal.
I'm okay with that too.

I've taken to more assistance with a cane, for shorter distances.
Up to 1/4 or 1/2 mile.
I'm okay with that too.

~*~

That's why I quit Facebook!

3/24/17

Sophie and I slowly walked around to the back yard, up the wooden steps built into the side of the hill, and through the naturalized, unkempt growth. We took a right and walked half way down the gentle slope toward the street.

I stood still while Sophie sniffed through the ivy that covered the ground. Her retractable leash in my hand followed her meandering. My eyes shifted from Sophie to the tall cypress trees on the opposite side of the road. As I watched the treetops sway back and forth with the breeze I felt grounded, calm, a sense of companionship.

Trees. My guardians and inspiration. Hope. Limbs. Trunk. Crown. Weathering storm after storm. Graceful. Sturdy. Bending with the wind. Year after year after year....

I prayed more with feelings than with words. A prayer I've prayed often the past few years, to trees.

Heal my limbs...my trunk...my crown. I've received improvement when I've prayed to trees before. It can still happen. 

My eyes shifted down to the left side of the trees, to the ground. In the yard stood a human who must "own" the trees. It was an elderly lady. She was standing at the edge of what looked like a small iris garden. Maybe it was something other than irises; the plants had not yet flowered.

But I'm pretty sure the long, pale green, pointed leaves growing from the ground belong to a type of iris. The lady is watering them. Her arm is outstretched as she holds the spray nozzle at the end of a garden hose. The water sprays out over the irises.

It looks so easy.

That's why I quit Facebook! The thought bolted loudly in my mind. It wasn't a new revelation. I knew the why when I decided to quit Facebook.

Earlier that morning I had been writing, thinking I might post a blog piece about why I deactivated my Facebook account last May, in 2016. What I thought might be a blog piece turned into journaling, and I went off on some tangents, as is often the case.

This visual alone explained it. This elderly lady, maybe in her late 70s, her arm extended, watering her garden.

The main reason I left Facebook is because more often than not I get reminded of what I can't do, instead of what I can.

I can no more perform the function the garden lady was doing than a blind person can see. My arms and strength simply cannot do that.

I don't have a garden. I wish I did. But if I did, I couldn't tend it.
I can seldom cook...or clean...or socialize.
I dare not pick up a baby.
I simply can't do many "normal" tasks, most of the time.

Most "normal" tasks that I am able to do, I have to do slowly and with concerted effort.
To do otherwise would be like asking the paralyzed to rise up and walk.

I am still adapting to life with this disability -- accepting it, not accepting it, and points in between. On Facebook, I get inundated with visuals of friends living aspects of every day life, events and activities that I'm unable to join in on. I get reminded of what I can't do instead of what I can. Reminded of the life I am missing out on. Then, often, I'd feel depressed. And then I'd feel badly about getting depressed and that instead I should be happy for others, which I was and am. But still, I'd be left with my reminder. 

Perhaps, if only a few stories or images came across my Facebook news feed, I could handle it. But dozens? Too much. Can't do it. At least not yet, and maybe never.

So, I deactivated. 

For the most part I'm happier. 

Happier with less. 

~*~
I receive my next epidural on 4/11/17. It will be number 16.
~*~

~ cypress trees across the street ~

~ Sophie is a little Yorkie mix. We are good friends. ~