10 Apr

Just in time.

Posted by DOGKISSES in invisible illnesses, life, mental and emotional health. Tagged: , , , , , .

“Ms. Dogkisses,”  the woman said, “Why do you wait until the very last minute to pay your bill each month?”

I looked at the clock on her wall.   In my world, 4:45pm was early.  Her office closed at 5:00.  It wasn’t only the time of day,  it was also the last day of the month that I could pay my bill without my auto insurance being canceled, so I was just in time.

I didn’t know what to say.  I guess I looked bewildered because her level of irritation immediately lessened.  She sat down at her computer and asked me to have a seat.  So I did.

I work under pressure.  Sometimes within minutes of a deadline.  It probably has a lot to do with chronic fatigue.  Maybe the pressure of a deadline gets my heart pumping and my adrenaline flowing and that’s the only way I can work!

She had a bowl of candy on her desk — with the good candy in it, like chocolate Kisses.  It was not your average office candy bowl with the hard peppermint candy or artificially flavored suckers.  I politely asked if I could partake and her warm smile made me feel like I could have the entire bowl if I wanted it.

Enjoying the chocolate I began to talk.  Sometimes, when I’m upset or nervous and must interact with people I talk too much.  I tend to tell the truth about what’s going on in my life.  I just start telling.  I usually manage to get a few laughs as I try and wrap my pain in humor.  Sometimes  it backfires and someone cries.

It takes energy for me to pretend I’m okay when I’m not.  Since my energy is endangered and possibly on the brink of extinction, I don’t try as hard anymore to make others feel better about how I feel.  I try to follow the social norms as much as I can, and manage pretty well most of the time.  Sometimes things get me, little things such as the normal greeting we are use to in America, “Hello, how are you?”

We are supposed to say fine and move on.  It’s easy to say fine to someone like the clerk at the register in the grocery store, but other times it’s harder.  The other day I was checking in for occupational therapy for my hand.  The clerk asked me how I was doing.  Well, I was very sick.  I was dizzy and thought it possible I might pass out before I could get upstairs.

“I’m fair,” I said, and I even gave a hint at a smile.  She was disappointed.  I get that a lot.  Fair is simply not good enough for many people.  I’m amazed at the responses I get from complete strangers because I said I was fair.

So, there I am paying my bill, feeling nervous that I interrupted this woman’s day by arriving just in time and I start talking and telling.  I tell the woman a few things about my life.  I tell her about my time.  I tell her that I have a son dealing with some hard things in life.  I tell her I’m overwhelmed.  I eat some more chocolate.  I don’t know exactly what it was I said that she most related to but she suddenly stopped typing.

She turned to me and asked if I would tell her more.  Her eyes had teared up.  I told her a little more.  Then she tells me.

She tells me how odd it is that I came in when I did and said what I said.  She tells me how she is completely moved by the things I said.

“I’ve never heard someone talk about these kinds of…” she paused, “problems or illnesses, whatever they are, the way you just did.”

I wasn’t sure how I had talked about anything other than being open about the way I felt.

She told me about what was happening in her life, which sounded a lot like what was happening in mine.  I listened.

Before I left her office she told me she had an epiphany, although I wasn’t sure what it was.  She said my timing had been personally important to her.    She was overwhelmed, as I was.  I don’t think she had a way to put that into words.  I guess that’s what she heard from me.  A way to talk about what is hard.

One thing that I think changes for those of us who live with chronic illness is time.    We are given time to reflect and think about life.   We also learn, as it seems we must,  how to talk about the difficult things in life.  This isn’t easy.  I believe that learning how to better talk about what is hard is part of our healing journey.

It’s hard talking about what is difficult to talk about.

I’ll probably continue to talk too much when I’m nervous.  I’ll probably continue being too honest at times.  I have tried to change this about myself,  but I can’t and I’m too tired to fight who I am.  I’ll most likely continue saying I’m fair when fine is just too far for me to grasp.

I’ve been told I wear my heart on my sleeve, that I cannot hide and that my eyes tell things about me.   I have in a way been forced by this part of who I am to learn how to talk about what people see; what I cannot hide and do not want to anyway.

Sometimes this part of being me works out alright.  My nervous honesty worked out alright paying my bill.  I think I’ve gotten myself out of a couple of tickets with sudden outbursts of utter truth.  I told the truth about why I was speeding (hard times!) and then another time about why I was driving — briefly without a seat belt — while tired in the middle of the night (hard times again!).   Both times the truth came out of my mouth faster than I could think.  Both times the truth was so bazaar the officers let me go.

Sometimes it’s good to talk about what is difficult to talk about.

The image of French Rose by, “The Graphics Fairy.”




6 Apr

When being too tired is an emergency

Posted by DOGKISSES in Chronic Fatigue Syndrome, depression, fibromyalgia, health. Tagged: , , , , , .

night light

I write with little energy.  I cannot communicate with my favorite blogging friends for now.  What I thought was a severe episode of chronic fatigue syndrome and with it, some serious brain fog, is unfortunately more than this.

I went to the ER because I was exposed to pneumonia followed by a weird chest pain with a new cough.  The fatigue had worsened and the brain fog turned into confusion.  I couldn’t do my paperwork.  I got scared.

I don’t have pneumonia but was admitted to the hospital so they could watch my heart, which they did.  They watched it run slowly all night. It stayed between 45 and 50 beats per minute until the nurse came in at 3am with the maintenance man to fix the heater’s thermostat, which wasn’t broken.  It did go up then but not for long.

They discharged me early, partly because I had begged.  I can’t leave my dogs.  I have bills to pay.  Things that must get done this week.  I agreed to follow up with doctors, which I’ve done as I write.

Right now I’m like my sister’s cell phone was a few minutes ago — working with only one bar.

My discharge papers reads, “Sinus bradycardia.”

What I know is I’m dead tired.  I got to where my fingers couldn’t type.  I couldn’t pick up the telephone when it rang and it was beside the bed!  I couldn’t do anything.  I knew I had to seek help.

After monitoring my heart all night, then having a few conversations with a very good doctor, he decided that the slow heart rate is a nutritional problem.  He believes that I’m not eating enough.  He may be right.

When I said I had a broken heart, well, I guess it goes to show that our emotions are very much a physical part of being human.

I had a lot of grief over the past year.  I had many changes too.  Lately, things have actually been changing for the better, but I guess life gave me a bit more sadness than my heart could take.

The sadness I have gone through reminds me of the Kudzu that grew in the mountains where I lived, as well as where I live now.  You pretty much have to go in and blast the foundation to get rid of this plant.

The new leaves are supposedly nutritious and can keep a person alive.  I think there are medicinal uses for the plant, but of course, I can’t remember what they are.  I’m running on low.  I do remember that you can only eat the fresh leaves in the springtime, otherwise it is a poisonous plant.

I had myself a session with a psychopath, exposing me to an awful growth of toxins.  I ate from the autumn vines with the darker bigger and poisonous leaves and they made me sick!

Hopefully, and I am hopeful as I write, I think simply from having written, I will heal and very soon.


4 Apr

An insect hunter with a tender heart

Posted by DOGKISSES in Canine companions. Tagged: , , , , , .

The pretty princess in the photo is an insect hunter.  Aside from hundreds of captured insects, she has caught a rat, a squirrel and discovered a snake under my bookshelf. The rat was gross, and dead.  I did not witness the slaying of the poor squirrel, but my mom’s landlord did and watched the entire scenario without coming to tell me what she was doing, which as I said, was killing a squirrel.  And yet she is the most sensitive and sweetest dog I’ve ever met!

Anyone will tell you so because it’s true.  She’s my, “tender-heart,” a fellow-doglover who once met her told me.  Her tenderness and sweet spirit shines, especially to people who can see these sorts of things.

She wanted to get that snake.   I was too scared and dialed 911, but that’s another story.

Insect hunting is by far her greatest skill.  She discovers every crawling creature that enters our home.  Sometimes at night we’ll be lying together in the dark watching television.  She’ll be curled up in her little ball with her head tucked in between her legs, sleeping like dogs sleep, and all of the sudden she’ll jump up.  I know she has suddenly become aware of a bug.

I don’t know if she hears bugs crawling or smells them, but she sure knows when they are about and I’m talking anything from the smallest spider to those huge long awful looking bugs that folks around here call water bugs.

I get up and follow her wherever she goes; into the kitchen or often near the fireplace.  I wait ’til she stops, which she does, and stares.  I turn on a light and try to kill it before she gets to it.

I kill spiders and bugs in my home.  I didn’t use to do this, but now that I live in the woods and have nearly died from Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever,  I figure from now on, it’s survival of the fittest.

The other skill my insect hunter has is judging people’s nature.

We both have a new friend now as a result of her ability to attract nice people.  Our friend is ten years old.  She is as sweet as my four-legged is!

They have fallen in love with each other.   Our new friend is not only really sweet but is also strong and tall.  She can definitely handle the leash when my tender princess takes off running and pulls as hard as she can.  Watching the smiles on both their faces as they run together is awesome!

Yesterday they played and I could tell it was hard for the little girl to leave.  She wanted to stay with us but I was sick and needed to go inside and rest.   She looked into my dog’s eyes, gently stroking her soft little face and head.  My dog’s eyes stared directly into the girl’s, and it sure looked like love to me.

The little girl noticed it.  Realizing she couldn’t stay with us, she sat down on my porch amongst the leaves and branches, which didn’t bother her at all.   “Does she say bye to everyone this way?” she asked me.

“No, she doesn’t,” I told her, which is true.  “She loves a few people more than anyone else,” I added.  “She loves my son, but she has taken to you for sure.”

“She’s the greatest dog in the world,” the girl said.  ” I love her.”

I had hugged our other dog as she was rubbing the silky fur my insect hunter is covered in.  She had watched me.  I sensed that she really wanted to hug her new 4legged love.   I wondered if she had ever hugged a dog and remembered my first time.

I was in Texas with my girl Free who blessed this earth from 1993 – 2006.  My good friend asked me if I talked to my dogs.  I realized I didn’t.  She asked if I ever gave them big hugs the same as I would a person.  I didn’t.  She taught me that day how to love more my canine companion.

I remembered how great it felt the first time I gave Free a big strong hug and began talking to her.  I hugged her pretty much every day after that.  Now, if I forget to hug my dogs, then something was wrong with the day.

Our new young friend stood there, a bit antsy it seemed, and realizing she had to leave she reached down and hugged her furry friend.   I could tell she loved it.  The only thing she seemed to be aware of was the experience of the love of a dog.

It was an awesome love to witness.

My dog has brought me a new friend.  We both love being with her.  They run and sometimes we talk.  I love our conversations.  You don’t have to pretend around children.  You can just enjoy the moment because that’s how they live.  In the moment.  A lot like dogs.

A Dog's Welcome Home

29 Mar

Romance, after the Narcissist

Posted by DOGKISSES in mental and emotional health, narcissists, relationships, writing. Tagged: , , , , , .

“I can give you a better kiss than the one I gave you before,” he said, flirting with me over the phone.  Our lips had touched gently and briefly as a parting gesture the week before.

“You can,” I responded.  It was partly a question and a little flirting back.

“You bet I can,” he said and that was pretty much it for me.   His confidence gave me butterflies and weakened my knees a bit.   I was shaving my legs within the hour, so I knew.

I was also using some lovely citrus body scrub, along with Neutrogena’s Sesame oil, both products having been gifts from the narcissist I had a relationship with, if you call what we had a relationship.  I had one, but I have no clue what he had other than a private little party in his mind.

I was glad to be using these products again.  I’ve used the sesame oil since I first discovered it in the early 1980’s, but love has a way of pinning itself to little things in a romance.

The place you first made-love or food that you enjoyed together remind you of what is gone when the romance is over.  The bottle of sesame oil had worked its way into my memories and this is something I love about writing.  Just now as I type, I realize that the narcissist never knew how to make use of his gift.  He knew how to give gifts but he did not know about sweet romance.  If he had known, the body of sesame oil would have been empty a long time ago.

Maybe the most difficult part of letting go and moving on after ending a romantic relationship are the reminders that come when you attempt to be sexual with a new partner, even something as slight as flirting can cause you to remember.  Plus, the aftermath of a relationship with a narcissist carries unique problems.  Many people are severely mentally and emotionally traumatized by the experience.  I was.

I mentioned to a couple I know that I was ready to date evoking instant match-making ideas in the woman.

I liked their friend the first time I met him and we later had an evening alone together, the time of which was fun and easy.  He was confident but didn’t seem arrogant.  When he said he could give me a better kiss I thought well, he sounds like a man who knows what he has to offer and it sounded alright with me.

Do I trust my radar?  No.  Not now.  I don’t yet trust any feelings of attraction .  A relationship with a severe narcissist left me with a large dose of cautiousness about people’s intentions or sincerity that I’ve never known before.

I refuse to stop living though.  I’m too young to give up on love or romance.  I think anyone living is too young.  Plus, its Spring and what a wonderful time to be like the French and take a new lover.   I either read that in a book once or saw it in a movie where a French woman said, “I’ll think I’ll take a lover for the Spring.”

This is what I was thinking about as I poured oil on my legs and then used a nice lotion afterward.

I did contemplate my actions.  At least the man is honest about his wish to, “give me a better kiss,” I thought, but there are conflicting feelings.  We don’t seem to have that much in common.   He doesn’t have a dog.  I must admit I wonder about people who don’t have dogs.  As I rubbed the lotion on my legs I thought hey, I’m not trying to mate for life here.  I’m not a bird.  I’m only human.

I thought about being in my forties.  I remembered a wonderful psychiatric nurse I once met.  She was an intelligent woman who had traveled the world in her forties.  I was struggling with the aftermath of an unhealthy relationship then too.  I’ve met two severe narcissists in my life.  I loved both of them and I ended both relationships.  They were about 13 years apart.  I never thought after the first one I’d ever go through anything like that again but all narcissists are not created equally.  The two I have known both did have charming ways, passion and intelligence but they were very different types of people.

The subject of sex came up.  That’s another part of a relationship with a narcissist.  There are usually problems around this.

“If you think you enjoy sex now,” she told me, “just wait ’til your in your forties.  You have a lot to look forward to in life,” and she went on to tell me how she had divorced a man, very much like the one I had known, when she was in her forties.  I was in my early thirties then.  She told me about her leaving and going off to Europe for two years where she, “enjoyed several lovers,” while she was there.  It sounded dreamy but hopeful. 

“I had an absolutely wonderful time,” she went on, “and then I met the man I would marry.  He moved here and we have a wonderful marriage.  You can have this too,” she told me, “but you must leave this place to have it.”

I was in a hospital for depression.  I’d only been there one night and it was clear to me and this head nurse that I was in the wrong place.  The psychiatrist disliked me so much after meeting me only once, he said he was glad to see me go, which was early the next morning.   That nurse had prepared my discharge papers after our conversation the night before.

The woman planted a seed in my brain.  I may not get to go to Europe for two years, but I swear I don’t want to make it to 50 and say dang, I forgot to enjoy those 40’s.

What if he surprises me I wondered?  Honestly, I wondered if the man could not only give me a kiss but if he could rock my world.  Shake me into a new reality.  Give me new thoughts and memories of romance.

I have grieved.  I have hurt.  I have seen many days when I didn’t want it to get dark.  I just didn’t.  The nights of the past winter seemed each one to last forever.

I want to take a lover for the Spring.  I couldn’t get it out of my mind.

The kiss drew me in and I found myself swept away into romance.  I have a new memory now.  I have a new and sweet experience.  The soft kiss lasted as long as the winter nights had.

I’m not out of the woods.   I doubt I’ll be like the woman in the novel or the movie, or the nurse in Europe.  I have to learn my boundaries.  I have to learn again, to trust myself.

I remain human.  I remain a woman.  I remain imperfect.  I remain cautious.







Related Articles

26 Mar

I’m talking about Pain.

Posted by DOGKISSES in health, invisible illnesses, Pain. Tagged: , , , , , , .

In the wee hours of the morning, around 3:30 am today, I woke up.

I was fatigued and had fallen asleep last night, forgetting to take my pain medication and my anxiety medication, both of which I need, the latter of which is for anxiety, but also manages a neurological disorder I have, an essential tremor.

I don’t remember the details of my waking in chronological order.  I remember having the thought that I should definitely update my will.  I remember being scared.  I was really scared.

The pain in my chest and lungs is what was the most scary I guess, but all of it was bad.  My entire body, once again, felt like it was on fire.  It’s more than fire though.  It’s more than a burning.  It’s so much more I don’t seem to have the words for it.

They call it fibromyalgia.  I wonder.  Sometimes I wonder what my doctor would do if I was his daughter.   He has three and often speaks of them.  He is a compassionate man and I like him.  So I’ve wondered this.

Would he take me to some fancy medical facility up north?  Could they help me?  I know he would pay for acupuncture treatments, which helps me tremendously, but I can’t afford them.  He once told me he would like to learn acupuncture himself.  I told him I needed him to keep on being my doctor instead of going off to acupuncture school.  He laughed.

But my good doctor was not here at 3:30 am when I woke up this morning nor was anyone else, except my dogs, my blessings from the universe.  They were here and their being here makes a big difference in my ability to remain sane in such a state as I found myself in this morning.

Not only was I in pain but the tremor was there.  My insides were shaking.  I was sweating a little.  The pain was so intense I had to lie there and get my breath enough to be able to get up and go take my medication.

I lied there for a few more minutes before getting up.  I guess I was in shock.  My lungs hurt when I breathed, which I could barely do.

I’ve been told that the pain I experience in my chest area and when I breathe is from fibromyalgia.  They tell me that the heart is a muscle, which I already know that, and talk about the connective tissue around the heart and lungs, but they have also told me it’s rare to have the kind of serious pain I have while breathing.

Without the medication I can’t breathe.  It hurts too bad.  This is scary and I don’t think the doctors are aware of how serious it is for me.  I guess I need to tell my doctor but what would I say?  He knows I live in pain.  He gives me medication.  Maybe I’m afraid he will say my pain is too much for him and would send me away.  Send me to some pain clinic where I’ll be a number and/or where they might not believe in fibromyalgia.

Yeah, I am scared.

The fibromyalgia doctor I saw twice said sometimes it does get into the lungs and that this is almost like a medical entity of it’s own.  Great I thought.

It’s scary because I think what if something happened?  I live alone and what if I forgot my medication and couldn’t get to it?  I have a phone and I would dial 911, but would they believe me if I told them I couldn’t breathe without my medication?

There is stigma around pain medication and medical professionals are not immune to it.

What would I say if I did dial 911?  I have fibromyalgia.  I can’t get to my medication.  I can’t breathe without it.

Would they think I’m a drug addict?  A hysterical woman?  A psychiatric case?  I wouldn’t be a “drug-seeker,” because I have the “drug.”

It took about thirty minutes for the medication to work.  I could breathe again.  I don’t remember now what all went through my mind during that time, other than thinking about updating my will, but I know a lot did.

It was a painful, scary and depressing experience, but it’s over…or is it?

20 Mar

Horses healing hearts

Posted by DOGKISSES in depression, fun, health, mental and emotional health, Mental healthcare. Tagged: , , , , , , .

Horses heal the mind, body and spirit

Candy, A Morgan

Wow!  OMG!  Totally Awesome!

Those are the words that first come to mind as I write, recalling my ride today.  

Today I met a Morgan horse named Candy.  I couldn’t believe her name was the same as the Appaloosa that I rode last summer.  I loved that Appaloosa, who was a very spunky girl and today, I loved Candy the Morgan horse, who was tender, sweet and did exactly everything I asked her to do, and then some!  I mean, some things I asked her to do I didn’t realize I had asked for because I’m an amateur rider.

The trainer showed me how Candy was keen to my every move, such as barely moving my foot in the stirrup, which told Candy to slow down a little. Candy was sweet and intelligent.

I also learned that gently pulling back one side of the reins, while giving a little on the other side controlled Candy’s speed during a trot.   Instead of bouncing up and down, afraid of falling, I was able to move gracefully with her.  This was an awesome feeling.  It was exciting too.  It was most likely my favorite part of the lesson.

The trainer told me I was doing a great job.   She said she was surprised at how well I did during the trot.  I’m sure she had no clue how much this meant to my self-esteem hearing her say that.  I felt good about myself in that moment.  It was a healthy sense of control in a time when most everything in my life feels completely out of my control.

Aside from enjoying the ride there is a relationship that you develop with a horse and it doesn’t take long — only a few minutes.   It’s amazing how much a horse listens.  The simple act of holding out my pinkies, which I didn’t know about,  slowed Candy down.

While I’m certainly tired from the ride, there is a smile on my face as I write.  My spirit feels good.  I don’t feel like a complete failure.  Candy sure helped me.

Morgan horses are so sweet! They are much like dogs.

Candy, a very sweet girl!

“Morgan horses are kind of like dogs,” the trainer had said when I first arrived at the farm.   I walked through the barn and met the other horses while she saddled up Candy for me.  One of the Morgans especially reminded me of dogs.   She kept nuzzling her big pretty head up against the bars appearing to desire a scratch behind the ears, just like a dog.  I gave her a scratch and she kissed my hand, just like a dog.

I had a great time!

Now I must go rest and dream of my meeting with one of the sweetest horses in the world!

Candy lives at a farm in North Carolina.  This farm does not offer or include in their lessons equine-assisted therapy.   Any therapy I received I captured on my own.

I’m not a doctor or a medical professional, nor am I offering advice on treatment for depression.   I simply want to share my experience and tell how riding a horse, along with the relationship that is created, is great therapy for me in my journey to fight chronic sadness, frustration, illness, grief, and often, a loss of interest in things I would otherwise enjoy.

Antidepressants don’t always come in a pill.

(update on Monday, March 22, 2010) —  Lots of stiffness and sore muscles since my ride, but today I’m doing better.   I stayed in bed most of the 24 hours after the ride.  I also had to take anti-inflammatory medication but to me, it was totally worth it.

Physical strength isn’t a requirement to ride on a gentle horse.    I didn’t have to lift the saddle, which was a good thing and I chose to trot, which I’m sure added to the aftermath of pain.

Compared to the side-effects I have from antidepressant medications, the short-lived flare of the sore muscles and fatigue is not a big deal to me.

The extra pain will go away and the gifts Candy and her trainer gave me will stay.

17 Mar

Fibromyalgia, Severe Pain and Injuries

Posted by DOGKISSES in fibromyalgia, health, Pain. Tagged: , , , , , , , .

It hit my legs first.  I felt it deep in my bones when I lied down.  The pain felt like the beginning of a tooth ache.  I changed positions and fell asleep.  Several hours later I woke up with my eyes wide open.  The pain was intense.  I thought I was having a nightmare, but I wasn’t.  It was real.

"Yikes" Fun image by Leslie Sigal Javorek at IconDoIt, the blog!

YIKES!!!

IMAGE CREDIT: Leslie Sigal Javorek, IconDoit, the Blog!

The severity of pain lessened dramatically when I got up and moved around.  I was in that state of mind where I wasn’t fully awake, yet like a dream, or nightmare, I had more of a feeling than a detailed memory afterward.

fibromyalgia severe pain invading every cell

The memory of the deep pain I woke up with evoked an image in my mind.  I imagined thousands of little creatures; their legs strong and claws sharp; grasping and gnawing at the fibers in my legs; having invaded every cell.

By mid-day my upper body started hurting again.  By the end of the day, I found myself crying.  I realized there was more going on than the regular level of pain I live with.

I put Lidoderm patches on the places that hurt the most and took breakthrough medication; extra pain medication that I don’t normally have to take.

I didn’t know what to think.  Was it my lungs or the connective tissue around my lungs, I wondered?  The pain in my upper back, like the pain in my legs earlier that morning,  was  so deep and inclusive that I couldn’t tell if it was bronchitis or muscle pain.  My muscles felt bruised.  Breathing hurt.  I hurt all over, inside and out.

The patches and extra medication helped and the next day I was able to take the dogs for a walk.  My young, but strong dog, pulled my arm.  A surge of pain moved through the center of my back, which is when I remembered a dog walk two days before this new pain hit my body.

The dogs had spotted our neighbor.  They adore her and hurled forward when they saw her.  I held the leashes, running behind them for ten or twenty feet.  It had hurt, but the worst of the pain was yet to come.

One event like this can cause a flare up of fibromyalgia pain that might last a couple of days or a few weeks.  Injuries can cause severe flares and pain levels to permanently increase.  

Due to post-exertional pain and fatigue, the smallest of chores or tasks can cause days of illness.  I’m not good at pacing because the ideal rate of speed is so slow, but I’ve learned the consequences of over doing things.

Moving into my apartment caused me so much pain that I had to go on a different and stronger medication after it was all over.  Planting five plants in my yard two summers ago put me in bed for the best part of a month.  Falling from my bicycle on Halloween caused me to go, “on a tendon and ligament adventure,” as my doctor remarked.  Not long after the bike accident, while cleaning a ceramic cabinet knob, I endured severe and deep cuts to two fingers. 

Yikes!

Injuries that other people get over fairly quickly can cause flare ups and become chronic pain conditions for a fibromyalgia patient.

Pain is pain.  Living with it is hard and sometimes, depressing.  Pain can be physically, mentally and emotionally completely consuming.

I cannot imagine not having medication that relieves the intensity.  I simply can’t.  I seriously think that my body would probably go into shock or I would have a heart attack from pain.

Before Medication…

I took my dogs along with me on a camping trip to one of my favorite places in the mountains.   A friend had come to help me set up camp.  It wasn’t easy and it rained, but I knew the weather would clear soon.  The morning would bring beautiful bird songs, close views of the white-tailed deer who legally own the place, and because of the few number of campers, the sounds of nature would wake me upon the first shadow of light.

I woke up around 2am in more pain than I had ever felt before.  I sat there for several hours, literally crying in pain.  Before meeting the beautiful morning I had anticipated, I had concluded that I could not continue to live with the pain I was experiencing. 

My thoughts had gone downhill for sure.  I felt that anyone who expected a person to live with that kind of pain seemed inhumane.  I wanted the same compassion as my dog had been given when we learned she had bone cancer.  My tail wasn’t wagging anymore.  I wasn’t laughing anymore.  Food didn’t matter anymore.

That weekend changed my life.  I had been ready to die.  Fortunately, I had a good doctor who told me to try taking a pain pill.  I did and it worked.

I realized better what a toll the constant pain had taken on me and my life, after finding relief in medication. 

Taking pain medication doesn’t necessarily mean you are out of pain.  I think many people simply want to reach a tolerable level of pain they can live with.  Most people I know who live with pain want very much to function as much as possible.

I have pain-free days, but most of the time I have some level of pain.  My muscles are usually tender.  My body usually feels bruised. 

I have flares, but I’m truly grateful that I don’t have to live every moment of my life in severe unrelenting pain.  I’m also grateful to have a doctor who understands very well that fibromyalgia hurts.

Thank you for visiting DogKisses’s blog.

All content on this page, including text, images and external links are subject to A Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-Share Alike 3.0 United States License.  See my sidebar for more information as to Terms of Use.

Post edited and updated on the eleventh of April, 2013

Related articles

7 Mar

Schizophrenic is an outdated word

Posted by DOGKISSES in mental illness. Tagged: , , , , , , .

The last time I heard a medical professional use the word, “schizophrenic,” was while I was having tests done at the pulmonary clinic.  The nice man who administered the tests had worked at our state mental institution more than twenty years ago.

He told me that he had loved his job there and also spoke tenderly about the patients he got to know while he worked there.  He told me a few stories and then he said the word, schizophrenic.   He hadn’t used it in a derogatory manner but it still surprised me.  I didn’t say anything to him because I assumed that it was a commonly used label — back then.

Hollywood still uses the word.  I’m surprised when I hear the word used in movies made within the past decade,  but then lots of things surprise me.

Not everyone has a family member who has been diagnosed with schizophrenia, so most people don’t know what it is like to love someone who can be completely and wholly defined with one word.

I think about how I would like it if people called me a fibromyalgic, or a Chronic Fatigueic, or a depressive, the latter label of which some people actually do use.

Illnesses such as diabetes doesn’t bring with it a mound of stigma when someone says, he is a diabetic.   Nobody runs away or gets afraid.  The label diabetic doesn’t define a person the way schizophrenic does.

Another word I think ought to be left for history is schizoid, particularly and especially when it is used by people who are not medical professionals because it is so often used in a derogatory manner.

I put the person first, which is what my cultural anthropology professor/mentor taught me to do.

“People are not their illnesses,” she would say.  “Always put the person first,” she told us.

I would have never imagined that not too far into the future, after my having taken the classes, that my son would be diagnosed with an illness that is not only misunderstood, but is completely and totally stigmatizing.

The label of schizophrenia alone stigmatizes, marginalizes, otherizes, and all the other ‘izes used in cultural anthropology.

The word, schizophrenic, is even worse.

If a person is schizophrenic can he or she be anything else?  Doesn’t it pretty much define a person?

The same goes for, schizoid.  I know psychiatrists use it but personally, I cannot stand the word.

Saying schizophrenic and schizoid takes away the person and leaves nothing for thought except the label, which is the only thing these words are — labels.

I say he or she has schizophrenia, or, he or she has been diagnosed with schizophrenia.

It isn’t about being politically correct.  In my mind, it is about being educated and/or thoughtful.

Put the person first.  My son is a human being.  He is an artist.  He is a student of Marshall Arts.  He is a son, a grandson, a nephew, a dog owner, a good friend, a wonderful person, and he is challenged with a thought disorder, the latter of which unfortunately has an ugly name.

First and foremost — he is a person.

« Older Entries
Newer Entries »