Aches & Pains |
Friday Apr 06 2007
Some bodies weather age better than others. In my case, arthritis has invaded my whole spine and all major joints, so my mobility has diminished quite significantly over a relatively short period of time. While I was never much of an athlete, I was always on the go, with energy to burn, traveling pretty much constantly in my job and for pleasure … And then, because of the unbearable pain and attendant exhaustion, I just had to stop. I couldn’t do my job any longer.
I scarcely remember the first two months of this change of lifestyle as I spent most of the time sleeping. When I woke up enough to really look around, I realized I was no longer the person I had been.
And that’s a hard awakening.
There are so many aspects to this kind of sudden and significant life change.
I had to deal with feelings of grief over the loss of what was, guilt about no longer being able to do my job (and the relief I felt, as well, that I didn’t have to keep pushing, which just led to more guilt), despair that sprang from the exhaustion and pain (as well as from my loss of identity), and fear about how I would be able to manage on my own. And there was anger that my body had betrayed me. I suspect some of those endless two months of sleeping was fueled by depression. I never did get the closure of a retirement function: I just ‘faded away’ like an Old West hero who just rides off into the sunset.
Would I ever be able to travel again? What was I going to do with all this unfilled time I suddenly had?
Wallowing in a pit of despair wasn’t an acceptable option. Really—I much prefer to be happy.
For months, it was all I could do to get out of the house and do grocery shopping. I had to learn how to live with pain that was never going to go away and that only got worse. In the light of day, it’s easier. I can think about other things, distract myself. The pain doesn’t go away, but at least I can keep moving to some degree. But at night, when it’s impossible to sleep and the pain is raging, it can be overwhelming. Medication can help, but that carries its own pitfalls—foggy thinking, faulty memory, a kind of bleariness or numbness that takes the edge off living—so I try to avoid taking much of it. When I’ve had moments of nearly hysterical frustration and angst, I’ve had to learn to stop and just breathe, tell myself the night will end … and, sometimes, pray for relief. And then give up fighting, as focusing on pain only makes it worse. So I find something to do, to write or read. Insomnia remains an ever-present challenge.
I had to do some serious ‘reframing’.
I had to admit that I had to start paying attention to my body, and not simply use it as a device to carry my head around. I bought a ‘hundred swims’ pass at the nearby pool, and then discovered it was a cold water athletic pool that left my joints screaming in protest. Clearly, that wasn’t going to work. I joined a tai chi class and went religiously three to four times a week for nearly a year, plus did basic movement exercises at home. It worked for a while, in terms of rebuilding general fitness and stamina, but the pain of it became unbearable after a while, and I gave up on that, too. I still do some basic moves at home because it really does help maintain a degree of flexibility and fitness. I tried acupuncture and Chinese tuina massage twice a week for over a year … and that helped. I worked with physiotherapists, a personal trainer, and a chiropractor. And I’ve been getting weekly deep tissue therapeutic massage for two years now, which is what seems to work best for me.
I couldn’t go back to work. Lack of sleep, pain meds, the unpredictable flares of pain themselves, all mean that I never know which day I’ll be functional as opposed to scarcely able to move or even think clearly. However, I could and did continue to coach previous staff and colleagues by phone, which helped me fulfill some of my needs to do something of worth.
That still left a huge amount of time on my hands. Well, if I couldn’t go out into the world, I could bring the world to me through my computer. I had the time to pursue lifelong interests in writing and painting. Now I write fiction, and find I thoroughly love writing. I’ve taken some art lessons, and have discovered it’s fun (and I’m pretty good at it). And I’ve always loved reading. So I find I can still be creative and fill my days with joyful undertakings. I can do things I never had time to do while chasing around fulfilling my career responsibilities. For that, I’m grateful.
Written by eldering at Health
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