Comparisons

I'm glad I write because I have a record of life that I can go back and read. And recall. And compare to now. And I get reminded that I have improved, in regard to the nerve damage.

In the actual living moment of coping with the debilitating fatigue and weakness, in that moment, it feels overwhelming. And it is. And I sometimes just want life to end, feeling I can't keep this up. It is difficult to see beyond the moment, and I try not to because usually that just induces worry about all the things that need to be done that I am incapable of doing and how far behind I am and on and on. That's not healthy.

But if I recall what I have accomplished that day, or in the past week...I give myself an "atta girl"...as best I can.  I made the bed. I dressed. I made my morning smoothie and cleaned the kitchen sink. I recycled what can be recycled to help steward our planet. Maybe I bathed or got my nails trimmed. Maybe I did my stretches. Maybe I saw a pet client. Maybe I worked at the art studio for a couple hours. Maybe I paid some bills. Maybe I rode my bike or walked with my walker or trekking poles. Maybe I spread some kindness.

My "atta girls" are sometimes accompanied with a sense of sadness. I am my own cheerleader. Sometimes I want cheers from others, but I don't ask. Because then I start talking about my crazy health issues. And, not to sound arrogant or special or something like that, I've learned that most people can't relate. They simply can't and to try to explain can be frustrating for me, and probably frustrating, not to mention boring or draining, for them. I have met only one person who has my same diagnosis, but their symptoms aren't as severe. I met her in the neurologist's waiting room; we were both receiving injections that day. She was still working as a public school teacher. That'd be impossible for me.

Every so often I search online for face-to-face support groups in the area where I live. There are none for my condition. There are support groups for specific ailments, but none for mine.

I have searched for support groups for chronic illness in general. There are none. And I've said to my self, Of course there are none. People with chronic illness don't have the energy for a support group. And I've responded, But those groups for specific ailments are chronic. The person's energy is limited and they live with the fatigue. Maybe the groups are led by someone who has improved or had the condition in the past. 

Point being, I feel overwhelmingly alone. It is an often occurrence.

The place I feel most connected and the least alone is in the mountains. And, ironically, that connection is deeper when I take my trips solo. I am "alone," but I feel "all one" - connected and hopeful and like I'm being lovingly succored in the palms of the hands of creation. After a Grayson trip on June 12 I told my psychologist, "It may sound weird, but as I stood on the trail looking over the mountains and trees and meadows and giant rocks and ponies grazing in the distance, I felt whole and nurtured and cradled.  I feel at home. At the same time, I also feel I'm an honored guest."

On that same Grayson trip as I walked back down the trail, I stopped and looked and listened. There were no other human sights or sounds. I thought, I feel no fear up here. None. Even if it were night time, I'd feel no fear. I'm not naive to think that nature is always "kind." There are dangers. But, for me, those dangers are less than where we contemporary humans swarm with our problems and regimens and overload.

But in the context of "where we humans swarm," maybe a better word would be "hardships" rather than "dangers." Hardships, with their never-ending drip-drip. Of course I have the convenience and luxury of not having to carve a life off the land which would be arduous, making our modern hardships pale in comparison to our forebears. And maybe "pale" isn't the right word; the comparison is more like apples to oranges. The hardships of life now are different from our ancestors. Our dangers are different too.

I now have a summer project - to take a mountain trip at least every other week; every week if I can.

mists from the valley
blue ridge parkway ~ 6/19/2017 mountain trip ~ high piney spur overlook
pilot mountain and hanging rock in the far distance

~*~

I'm glad I write because I have a record of life that I can go back and read. And recall. And compare to now. And I get reminded that I have improved, in regard to the nerve damage.

A few minutes ago I read this piece which I wrote in 2014, Absent Reserves.  It was a good reminder. Since surgery, I've felt that same "absent-reserves" fatigue almost without a break. I got a few weeks break in February when the epidural worked well. But the rest of the time it seems my routine injections and epidurals and my daily medicines and nutrition are working maybe at 60%(?) compared to pre-surgery.

And I say to my self,  Hey...that's 60%.

Like my June 12, 2017, trip to Grayson. I was able to ride my bike 1-1/2 miles up the mountain compared to last June's 4 miles up the mountain. I told my self, Hey...that's 1-1/2 miles.

Sometime I wonder if I should have had the surgery last August. The answer is always, "Yes." I really didn't have an option. I couldn't leave a faulty hip implant leeching cobalt and chromium into my body. The possible consequences were too high, one being sure bone death. And possible benefits may still come as time goes on and the metal levels come down.

Surely they will come down.

Surely there will be benefits to come.

I just need to keep going and get up and over this mountain.