Missing House

Yesterday I went to the neuro. After running the tests 3 times & my proteins being slightly elevated I have for now (again) been ruled out MS-wise. Of course we were thrilled, & after the dr gave me 2 shots in the sciatic nerve & pinched nerve. I was really hurting-I hadn't realized that for me/a fibro person, the spinal tap took a lot more out of me than I thought. Our cable went out, & sadly I missed the series finale of House. Look, I know his character was an ass, yet I grew to love him. Better or worse parts of how he acts reflects me sometimes. I guess having the world see how chronic pain can change you helps me cope somehow. I love & will miss how he, as well as my real doctors see me as a pattern & puzzle for good-not something to chuck out & refer endlessly to other drs to get me out of their offices. Being dismissed because you are too complicated is a special kind of rejection hell. This pic & poem (instant poetry gives you 35+ words & you make something with it) was taken tonight, after I slept about 19 hours. Enjoy & excuse the crazy. :)

 

A poem a day keeps the therapist away

 Not that I have anything against therapists, I just don't (but I'm sure I need) have one

 

 

The 5 year milestone

I think as a nation we are somewhat conditioned to having that saving twist-the something/someone comes in to save the day kind of ending-to beat the bad guy. Personally for me I blame sitcoms and Sweet Valley High books. 5 years ago today I was forced to resign due to medical reasons from teaching, sent packing, and was home moved in with my parents a day or so later. Needless to say it was a tough Christmas. 

I really thought that after 6 months to a year-after resting and regaining the strength from my 3 year battle with a very complicated broken ankle that put my fibromyalgia in a tailspin that I would somehow get better and start a new plan. For at least 2-3 years mom and dad talked about getting me into an apartment when I got better-I think they just needed to hold on to hope that I would rebound. Within year 3-4 thankfully for my sake that subject of job/apartment/etc. stopped. 

I consider myself so blessed-so lucky that my parents stepped in and swooped me up without batting an eye. I could be going through this and be homeless, or in a country where women aren't even allowed medical care, or in a remote part of the world where technology couldn't help me have a window out of my battered, cramped, crinkled cocoon. Along with that of course comes the crushing grief of what was lost 5 years ago. I don't feel sorry for myself-but I do allow myself to grieve. For the chronically ill grieving is an ongoing process. Everyday almost we stubble across something that reminds us of the old me, the old life, the old plan. Yet I strive daily to give myself the freedom to grieve along with the freedom to keep going. Not to a specific place or time, but just to hold on and try. 

within each 'fine'

Dad always has to drive me to my doctor appts, & one month at my normal monthly neurologist appt, he said 'I know they're being polite, but I wonder why the nurses taking the patients back ask how they are-so many people here are so sick & miserable'. He had been witness to my silent, sobbing, iPod fogged meltdowns enough to know what a person's pain center in their brain can be so wrong in what it tells the body to interpret as pain. Tomorrow will be one of those days, my lying 'I'm fine', & the tears filling my lap as I bury my head & have music to save me with noise reducing headphones & gorgeous music.

use your words

woke up and immediately just started sobbing today. i have neuro spinal shots tomorrow-and love but am sick of drs. it's that catch-22, huh? i have an app that gives you about 20 words-you make a poem and add a pic-did these two yesterday. (app called "instant poetry")